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TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS. 
With a colored frontispiece and illustrations by Louis 
Agassiz Fuertes. 12010, $1.00, net. Postage extra. 

THE FIRST BOOK OF BIRDS. With many Illustra- 
tions, including 8 full-page colored Plates. Square 
i2mo, $1.00; also School Edition, 60 cents, net. 

THE SECOND BOOK OF BIRDS: Bird Families. 
Illustrated with 24 full-page pictures, eight of which 
are in color, after drawings by Louis Agassiz Fu- 
ertes. Square i2mo, $1.00, net. Postpaid, $1. 10. 

UPON THE TREE-TOPS. With 10 Illustrations by 
J. Carter Beard. i6mo, $1.25. 

A BIRD-LOVER IN THE WEST. i6mo, $1.25. 

LITTLE BROTHERS OF THE AIR. i6mo, $1.25. 

BIRD-WAYS. i6mo, $1.25; also in Riverside School 
Library, i6mo, half leather, 60 cents, net. 

IN NESTING TIME. i6mo, $1.25. 

FOUR-HANDED FOLK. Illustrated. i6mo, $1.25; 
also in Riverside Library for Young People, i6mo, 
75 cents. 

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & COMPANY, 

Boston, New York, and Chicago. 



TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY 
NOTE-BOOKS 




CHEWINK 



TRUE BIED STORIES 
FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

BY 

OLIVE THORNE MILLER 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 
BY LOUIS AGASSIZ FUERTES 




t&mzmmm 



BOSTON AND NEW YORK 

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 

£bc nmcrsiDe press, Cambri&ac 

1908 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 


Two Co 


sies 




APR 


18 1903 


Copyright 

CLASS CL" 


Entry 
XXc. No. 


S 1 1 

COPY 


/ <* 
B. 



COPYRIGHT I903 BY H. M. MILLER AND HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

Published April, rgoj 



■.yi@;M,.&i& 
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PREFACE 

All the stories in this book are strictly true. 
Nearly all of them are my own observation, part 
of them studies of captives in my own Bird 
Room, and the rest of birds in the field. 

A few of the incidents have already been 

related in my " grown-up " books and in various 

publications, but most of them are now published 

for the first time. 

OLIVE THORNE MILLER. 

Brooklyn, N. Y., 1903. 



CONTENTS 



IN THE BIRD ROOM 



The Bird Room .... 

The Goidfinches . 

The Goldfinch's Fright 

The Bird that would not be Free 

The Busy Blue Jay 

The Droll Tanager 

The Goldfinch's Devotion 

A Madcap Thrush 

The Baby Robin . 

The Goldfinch's Fun 

The Comical Che wink . 

Polly's Pranks . 

Polly's Outing 

The Golden Goose 

The Saucy Oriole 

Antics in the Bird Room 

Blizzard .... 



3 
6 
9 
12 
15 
22 
26 
30 
37 
45 
52 
59 
66 
73 
80 
86 
. 88 

Three Sparrows that live in a House . . 97 

Doctor Dot 102 



BIRDS OUT OF DOORS 



My First Bird Ill 

The Thrushes who lived in the City . . . 115 

Barn Swallows in a Frolic 118 

How the Dog interfered 123 

Upplr and Lower Story in the Bird World . 126 

The Lost Baby 129 



viii CONTENTS 

How the Crow Baby was punished . . . 133 

A Jay's Table Manners 135 ; 

Friendly Wild Robins 138 

The Droll Mockingbird 142 

A Sociable Baby Dove 148 

The Ducklings who would not give up . . . 151 

Birds and Dolls 154 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Page 

Chewink (colored) Frontispiece 

Bluebird 12 

Blue Jay 18 

Baby Robin 42 

Baltimore Oriole 82 

Cardinal 86 

English Sparrow 98 

Whip-poor-will 112 

Wood Thrush 116 



IN THE BIRD ROOM 



TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE- 
BOOKS 



THE BIRD ROOM 



When I began to be interested in birds, I 
lived in a city where not many beside English 
sparrows were to be seen. I wanted to know 
something about our common birds ; moreover, 
I never looked into a bird store without longing 
to set every poor little captive free. 

So I set up a Bird Room. Every fall, for 
several years, I went around to the bird stores 
in New York and Brooklyn, and bought all the 
stray American birds I could find. The dealers 
did not make a business of keeping our common 
birds, and now it is against the law to do so. 
They usually kept only such birds as canaries, 
parrots, and other regular cage birds ; but occa- 
sionally they would have a robin or bluebird or 
oriole tucked off in a corner, and these birds 
were the ones I bought. In one store I would 
find a catbird moping on a high shelf, or in a 



4 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

dark back room; in another a bluebird scared 
half to death, and dumb in the midst of squawk- 
ing parrots and singing canaries. 

In this way I collected in my Bird Eoom eight 
or ten — usually — of our native birds, and al- 
ways in pairs when I could get them. I put 
each one in a big cage, and left the doors open 
all day; so that they had the freedom of a large 
room with three big windows and plenty of 
perches all about. 

Then I gave almost the whole of my time to 
taking care of them, and studying their ways 
through the winter, and as soon as spring came, 
and birds began to come back from the south, I 
took my little captives, — those who were able 
to fly, and I thought could take care of them- 
selves, — carried them out into the country or a 
big park, and set them free. Then the next fall 
I found a new set for my Bird Room, to be liber- 
ated again as soon as it was safe. 

I took such good care of the birds, gave them 
so many things they liked, made them so com- 
fortable, and let them have such good easy lives, 
that almost every one was happy, and perfectly 
contented to stay with me through the winter, 
when times are sometimes hard for them out of 
doors. Then, when they began to get uneasy in 
the spring, I let them go — as I said. 



THE BIRD ROOM 5 

I have explained thus carefully about my Bird 
Room because I do not approve of keeping wild 
birds in cages, and I never had one caught or 
caged for me, not even for study. Every one I 
ever kept was set free as soon as it was safe for 
him. 

It is no kindness to set a canary free, nor a 
bird that is injured, or has been kept for years, 
and so is unfitted to take care of himself. Cana- 
ries are born in cages, of caged parents. They 
have been taken care of for generations, and 
have no knowledge how to get food or find shel- 
ter. Turning one out into the world is about 
like turning a two-year-old baby out to get its 
own living. 

The only way to mitigate the hard lot of a 
canary is to make him so happy that he will not 
wish to be free. I could tell you many stories 
of canaries who had escaped, coming back and 
beating against a window to get into the only 
home they knew. 



THE GOLDFINCHES 

The way my Bird Room began was this : a 
friend gave me a pair of English goldfinches. 
They were little fellows, not so large as a canary, 
and brightly dressed, having red and yellow as 
well as brown and white in their plumage. 

I bought a big cage for them, and named them 
Chip and Chipee, but I found they were not 
happy together. Chipee seemed to be afraid the 
good things would not last; so when she had 
eaten all she could, she would quietly sit down in 
the seed dish, so that Chip could n't get any. 

Then Chip, on his side, did not approve of 
her antics. She was fond of climbing all over 
the wires of the cage and hanging head down 
like a parrot. Chip appeared to think this im- 
proper, for he would rush at her and twitch one 
of her feathers. Then she would scold at him. 

Sometimes Chipee did not want to hear Chip 
sing, and one day there was a droll scene in the 
cage. They had both had their bath and their 
breakfast, and Chip settled himself on his favor- 
ite perch and began to sing. 



THE GOLDFINCHES 7 

I noticed that Chipee, who was on the same 
perch, moved a little away from him, and puffed 
out her feathers as if she were going to sleep. 
Chip noticed it too, and seemed to take it as a 
slight to his music, for he moved a little nearer 
to her, fixed his eyes on her, and began again. 

She did not stir, and looked sound asleep. 
Then Chip became furious. He ruffled up his 
feathers, glared at her, and went up and jerked 
one of her feathers. 

That roused her. She turned her head to- 
ward him and opened her mouth at him. Among 
birds this seems to be what " making a face " is 
among children. Chip did n't like it anyway, for 
he dropped to the floor. 

In a moment he came back to the perch and 
began again. He sang a note or two, and then 
paused. Chipee gave one note which sounded 
like " Whit ! " Chip went on a note or two 
more and stopped again. She said " Whit " 
again, a little louder. 

Three or four times they did this, and then, as 
Chip did not stop, she suddenly flew at him with 
a harsh scold exactly as if she said, " Will you 
stop that noise ! " 

Chip was surprised and stopped for an instant, 
but quickly made up his mind that he would 
sing if he chose. He came close to her, stretched 



8 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

up till his head was far above hers, and sang as 
loud as he could, fairly shrieking, and holding 
out his wings ready to fight any minute, while 
Chipee scolded at the top of her voice all the 
time. 

Of course I could not let them live together 
if they were not happy. So I bought a new 
cage, a small square gilt one, and moved Chip 
into it. Then both were happy. 

Chip soon grew very tame, answering me with 
a cheery little note or two whenever I spoke to 
him. In his pretty gilt cage he lived ten or 
twelve years, most of the time in the midst of 
bigger cages and bigger birds, always cheerful 
and happy, and interested in every new bird who 
came to live with us. And he died peacefully 
of old age at last. 



THE GOLDFINCH'S FRIGHT 

Soon after Chipee was settled in the cage by 
herself, she had a serious fright and fainted 
away. 

It happened in this way. I had gone to bed 
and the room was dark, when I heard a little 
squeak that sounded like a mouse. I jumped up 
and lighted the gas. There was Chip safe, but 
uneasy, evidently frightened and disturbed. I 
turned to Chipee and found her all in a heap in 
one corner of the cage. 

While I looked she repeated the squeak I 
had heard. I ran with the cage to the light, 
and saw that she had pushed herself halfway 
through the wires, and could not get out or in. 
I pried the wires apart and she flew out. 

Wildly and blindly she dashed around the 
room, hitting the furniture and bumping against 
the wall, while I had to stay by the gas to keep 
her from flying into that. 

At last she fell and I hurried to pick her up. 
She fluttered a moment, and then her head 
dropped, and she lay limp and apparently dead 



10 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

in my hand. I looked at her by the gas and 
thought she was certainly dead, and I put her 
on the bottom of her cage, expecting to bury 
her in the morning. 

I had heard that birds sometimes faint as 
people do ; so I laid her carefully on her breast 
and left her, turned out the gas, and went back 
to bed. In a few minutes I heard a little flut- 
ter, and then the rattle of a perch. I quickly 
lighted the gas again, and there stood Chipee as 
pert as ever. 

The next morning I made a search to see 
what had startled her, and found that half her 
seed was eaten and the shells left in the cup, as 
she never left them. What creature except a 
bird would eat canary seed ? I could not guess, 
but I resolved to watch — that is, listen. 

That night I did so, and discovered that the 
thief was a mouse. He would run up the wire- 
gauze window screen and into the cage between 
the wires. I hung the cage in another place 
and set a trap for him with cheese, but this 
was a mouse with ideas ; he scorned cheese, and 
insisted on birdseed. And the worst of it was, 
that he always managed to get to that cage, or to 
keep me awake all night with the noise he made 
trying. 

At last I thought of a plan for the thief. I put 



THE GOLDFINCH'S FRIGHT 11 

Chipee into Chip's cage with him, which pleased 
her and made Chip very indignant. When I 
had seen them both settled for the night, two 
little feather balls at opposite ends of the high- 
est perch, I arranged to receive the mouse. I 
took away the seed cups from the empty cage 
and placed instead a round trap, like a rat trap, 
with birdseed inside. 

This was too much for the mouse. About 
eleven o'clock I heard a scramble and a rattle of 
wire, and I jumped up and found my mouse a 
prisoner. That day Chipee returned to her own 
cage, and had no more visits from mice. 

Chipee was a nervous little thing, however, and 
not very happy among bigger birds, so I gave 
her away to a friend who had no other birds, 
and there she became very tame and lived a long 
time. 



THE BIED THAT WOULD NOT BE FKEE 

Most people think that the best thing one 
can do for a caged bird is to set him at liberty. 
Almost always this is true ; but there are cases, 
as I have said, in which the bird is happier to 
live in a house and be cared for. 

If a bird is hurt and cannot fly well, he is 
better off where food and shelter are always pro- 
vided. Also, if he was taken when very young, 
before he had been taught to care for himself, 
he would find it hard to provide for his own 
comfort. The case of canaries I have already 
spoken of. 

But I want to tell you about a wild bluebird, 
who knew enough to appreciate the comforts of 
a home. 

The bird was found in a store in a very bad 
condition, having been caught in a trap and 
beaten herself against the wires till her wing 
feathers were broken so that she could not fly. 
She was put into the cage of another bluebird, 
who had been so injured that he could never 




BLLEIURD 



THE BIRD THAT WOULD NOT BE FREE 13 

The stranger showed herself to be rather ill- 
mannered. She grabbed the best of everything, 
and drove the owner of the cage about as if it 
were hers and not his. In fact, she was so greedy 
that the mistress thought he would be very glad 
when she had gone. So as soon as she had 
moulted and had come out with new plumage and 
perfect wing feathers, the cage door was opened 
and away flew Madame Blue and disappeared. 

Then the bird who was left began to call to 
her. All day he called, till the mistress was 
very sorry for him, but there was no sign that 
the runaway heard. 

The next day, twenty-four hours after she 
had been set free, one of the family found her 
back, and trying with all her might to squeeze 
into the cage between the wires, while her old 
cage mate was greatly excited, calling in the 
sweetest voice, welcoming her, and encouraging 
her to come in. 

The cage door was opened for her and she 
flew right in, plainly delighted to get home. 
Then came the most lively chatting between the 
two. One could not help feeling that she was 
telling how uncomfortable she found it having; 
to hunt up food and water, and how much nicer 
it was to have a whole family of people to wait 
on and care for one. 



14 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

She ate and drank, and appeared as i£ she 
could not get enough, and was evidently per- 
fectly happy. Open doors were no temptation 
to her. 

Mind ! I do not say that all caged birds are 
happy. Indeed, most of them are not, because 
few of them are well cared for. By that I 
mean not only supplied with fresh water and 
fresh food, with plenty of variety, but talked to, 
made much of, and loved. A bird can be made 
so happy and comfortable in a house that he 
will refuse freedom, but to make him so he 
must have perfect confidence in, and even love 
for, the people he lives with. 



THE BUSY BLUE JAY 

I 

One of the most interesting birds who ever 
lived in my Bird Room was a blue jay named 
Jakie. He was full of business from morning 
till night, scarcely ever a moment still. 

Poor little fellow ! He had been stolen from 
the nest before he could fly, and reared in a 
house, long before he was given to me. Of 
course he could not be set free, for he did not 
know how to take care of himself. 

Jays are very active birds, and being shut up 
in a room, my blue jay had to find things to do, 
to keep himself busy. If he had been allowed 
to grow up out of doors, he would have found 
plenty to do, planting acorns and nuts, nesting, 
and bringing up families. 

Sometimes the things he did in the house 
were what we call mischief because they annoy 
us, such as hammering the woodwork to pieces, 
tearing bits out of the leaves of books, working 
holes in chair seats, or pounding a cardboard 
box to pieces. But how is a poor little bird to 
know what is mischief ? 



16 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

Many things which Jakie did were very funny. 
For instance, he made it his business to clear up 
the room. When he had more food than he 
could eat at the moment, he did not leave it 
around, but put it away carefully, — not in the 
garbage pail, for that was not in the room, but 
in some safe nook where it did not offend the 
eye. Sometimes it was behind the tray in his 
cage, or among the books on the shelf. The 
places he liked best were about me, — in the fold 
of a ruffle or the loop of a bow on my dress, and 
sometimes in the side of my slipper. The very 
choicest place of all was in my loosely bound 
hair. That of course I could not allow, and I 
had to keep very close watch of him for fear I 
might have a bit of bread or meat thrust among 
my locks. In his clearing up he always went 
carefully over the floor, picking up pins or any 
little thing he could find, and I often dropped 
burnt matches, buttons, and other small things 
to give him something to do. These he would 
pick up and put nicely away. 

Pins, Jakie took lengthwise in his beak, and 
at first I thought he had swallowed them, till I 
saw him hunt up a proper place to hide them. 
The place he chose was between the leaves of a 
book. He would push a pin far in out of sight, 
and then go after another. A match he always 



THE BUSY BLUE JAY 17 

tried to put in a crack, under the base-board, be- 
tween the breadths of matting, or under my 
rockers. He first placed it, and then tried to 
hammer it in out of sight. He could seldom get 
it in far enough to suit him, and this worried 
him. Then he would take it out and try another 
place. 

Once the blue jay found a good match, of 
the parlor match variety. He put it between 
the breadths of matting, and then began to 
pound on it as usual. Pretty soon he hit the 
unburnt end and it went off with a loud crack, 
as parlor matches do. Poor Jakie jumped two 
feet into the air, nearly frightened out of his 
wits ; and I was frightened, too, for I feared he 
might set the house on fire. 

Often when I got up from my chair a shower 
of the bird's playthings would fall from his 
various hiding-places about my dress, — nails, 
matches, shoe-buttons, bread-crumbs, and other 
things. Then he had to begin his work all over 
again. 

Jakie liked a small ball or a marble. His 
game was to give it a hard peck and see it roll. 
If it rolled away from him, he ran after it and 
pecked again ; but sometimes it rolled toward him, 
and then he bounded into the air as if he thought 
it would bite. And what was funny, he was 



18 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

always offended at this conduct of the ball, and 
went off sulky for a while. 

He was a timid little fellow. Wind or storm 
outside the windows made him wild. He would 
fly around the room, squawking at the top of his 
voice ; and the horrible tin horns the boys liked 
to blow at Thanksgiving and Christmas drove 
him frantic. Once I brought a Christmas tree 
into the room to please the birds, and all were 
delighted with it except my poor little blue jay, 
who was much afraid of it. Think of the sad- 
ness of a bird being afraid of a tree ! 



II 

Jakie had decided opinions about people who 
came into the room to see me, or to see the 
birds. At some persons he would squawk every 
moment. Others he saluted with a queer cry 
like " Ob-ble ! ob-ble ! ob-ble ! " Once when a 
lady came in with a baby, he fixed his eyes on 
that infant with a savage look as if he would 
like to peck it, and jumped back and forth in 
his cage, panting, but perfectly silent. 

Jakie was very devoted to me. He always 
greeted me with a low, sweet chatter, with wings 
quivering, and if he were out of the cage he 
would come on the back of my chair and touch 




BLUE I \ V 



THE BUSY BLUE JAY 19 

my cheek or lips very gently with his beak, or 
offer me a bit of food if he had any ; and to 
me alone, when no one else was near, he sang 
a low, exquisite song. I afterwards heard a 
similar song sung by a wild blue jay to his mate 
while she was sitting, and so I knew that my 
dear little captive had given me his sweetest — 
his love song. 

One of Jakie's amusements was dancing across 
the back of a tall chair, taking funny little steps, 
coming down hard, " jouncing " his body, and 
whistling as loud as he could. He would keep 
up this funny performance as long as anybody 
would stand before him and pretend to dance 
too. 

My jay was fond of a sensation. One of his 
dearest bits of fun was to drive the birds into a 
panic. This he did by flying furiously around 
the room, feathers rustling, and squawking as loud 
as he could. He usually managed to fly just over 
the head of each bird, and as he came like a 
catapult, every one flew before him, so that in a 
minute the room was full of birds flying madly 
about, trying to get out of his way. This gave 
him great pleasure. 

Wild blue jays, too, like to stir up their neigh- 
bors. A friend told me of a small party of blue 
jays that she saw playing this kind of a joke on 



20 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

a flock of birds of several kinds, robins, cat- 
birds, thrashers, and others. These birds were 
gathering the cherries on the top branches of a 
big cherry-tree. The jays sat quietly on another 
tree till the cherry-eaters were very busy eating. 
Then suddenly the mischievous blue rogues 
would all rise together and fly at them, as my 
pet did at the birds in the room. It had the 
same effect on the wild birds ; they all flew in a 
panic. Then the joking jays would return to 
their tree and wait till their victims forgot their 
fear and came straggling back to the cherries, 
when they repeated the fun. 

Once a grasshopper got into the Bird Room, 
probably brought in clinging to some one's dress 
in the way grasshoppers do. Jakie was in his 
cage, but he noticed the stranger instantly, and 
I opened the door for him. He went at once to 
look at the grasshopper, and when it hopped he 
was so startled that he hopped too. Then he 
picked the insect up, but he did not know what 
to do with it, so he dropped it again. Again the 
grasshopper jumped directly up, and again the 
jay did the same. This they did over and over, 
till every one was tired laughing at them. It 
looked as if they were trying to see who could 
jump the highest. 

There was another bird in the room, however, 



THE BUSY BLUE JAY 21 

who knew what grasshoppers were good for. He 
was an orchard oriole, and after looking on awhile, 
he came down and carried off the hopper to eat. 
The jay did not like to lose his plaything ; he 
ran after the thief, and stood on the floor giving 
low cries and looking on while the oriole on a 
chair was eating the dead grasshopper. When 
the oriole happened to drop it, Jakie — who had 
got a new idea what to do with grasshoppers — 
snatched it up and carried it under a chair and 
finished it. I could tell many more stories about 
my bird, but I have told them before in one of my 
" grown-up " books, so I will not repeat them 
here. 1 

1 In Nesting Time, p. 173. 



THE DROLL TANAGER 

One of the drollest sights in bird-land is a 
scarlet tanager putting on his winter suit. 

In summer he is dressed in brilliant scarlet 
with black trimmings, but when he gets his new 
suit, as all birds do in late summer, he changes 
his gay feathers for a modest yellow-olive, such 
as his mate wears all the year. 

I wanted to see how the change was made, so 
one autumn I was pleased to find a lot of scarlet 
tanagers in a bird store. 

Such a comical-looking party as they were ! 
They looked as if dressed in " crazy patchwork," 
for their new yellowish feathers come in two or 
three at a time as the old red ones drop out, and 
on no two of the birds did they appear in the 
same way. One had entirely changed except a 
ring of the old scarlet around the neck ; another 
wore his winter color in dabs and patches all 
over ; a third had dressed his head in the new 
color while the rest of the plumage was still 
scarlet. 

I bought one who had a broad line of red 



THE DROLL TANAGER 23 

down the breast, which met another of the same 
color over the back. It looked like a red harness 
on a yellowish bird. He was a queer-looking 
fellow, and he acted as queer as he looked, for 
he did not care to eat. He would stand on the 
edge of his food dish and look at the food with- 
out touching it. If he liked the look of it, he 
would taste it, but if it did not please his critical 
eye, he simply let it alone. 

It would never do to have a bird who did not 
eat, so when the tanager scorned his bill of fare, 
I added grated carrot to the mockingbird food, 
and that he decided to eat. He liked raspber- 
ries, too, and when he refused to bathe, I coaxed 
him to go into the water by putting a raspberry 
in the dish, where he had to go in to get it. 

What the bird wanted was live food, I knew, 
and I gave him meal worms, which pleased him 
so much that soon he grew tame enough to 
come on my desk for them. In fact, though he 
was shy, he was never afraid of me. He always 
came when I called him, and at last he told me 
what he liked best to eat. 

Although we may not understand the lan- 
guage of our little fellow creatures (if they have 
one), we can easily understand their actions, and 
the way the tanager told me what he wanted to 
eat was this : I always opened the windows 



24 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

wide before I let the birds out of their cages in 
the morning, and one day a fly got into the 
room. I saw the tanager looking at it eagerly, 
as if he would like to catch it, so I opened his 
door. He flew out instantly, went after that fly 
as a dog will go for a rat, caught it, and ate it 
with great satisfaction. 

I took the hint thus given. I hung some 
sticky fly-paper outside the kitchen door, where 
flies hang around, ready to come in if a door is 
left open. In a short time I had five or six of 
them caught, and I carried the paper with its 
buzzing prisoners up to the Bird Room. 

The moment I went in holding up my prize, 
the tanager flew at me, and before I could lay it 
down, he picked every fly off, hovering like a 
hummingbird. After that I gave him his regu- 
lar lunch of flies. 

This queer fellow never liked to be looked at; 
especially he hated to have any one see him eat. 
When I offered him flies, they were too tempt- 
ing to be declined, but when he was in his cage 
and wanted to eat, he would stretch up and look 
over at me on the other side of the room. If 
I happened to be looking that way, he would 
leave the food and sit down on his upper perch 
as if he had never thought of such a thing as 
eating. 



THE DROLL TANAGER 25 

So I made the tanager a private dining-room, 
by putting a lining of stiff paper around the 
corner of his ca^e where the food dishes were. 
This made him very happy, and it was funny to 
see him stretch up between mouthf uls and look 
over his screen to see if I were looking. If I 
happened to move, he would flit to the upper 
perch as if he had been caught in mischief. 



THE GOLDFINCH'S DEVOTION 

The first I noticed of the little goldfinch's 
devotion to the tanager was after he had been 
with me several months, when Chip took a fancy- 
to sitting on the perch that ran out of the tana- 
ger' s cage. 

Before that, the tanager had given up coming 
out, though his door stood open all the time. 
Birds who are not very active often do so. 
Having all their comforts inside the cage, and 
not caring to fly around, they sometimes have to 
be coaxed to come out. 

The tanager seldom went outside his door, 
and Chip found his perch a comfortable place 
where the big birds in the room did not disturb 
him. After a while he moved his seat just inside 
the door, and then he was still more quiet, and 
the tanager did not object. 

Unless Chip went too near the tanager on his 
upper perch, he was never noticed, and before 
long he made himself at home all over the cage, 
and took it upon himself to keep other birds 
out of it. Birds are as fond of calling on one 



THE GOLDFINCH'S DEVOTION 27 

another as some people, but no matter how big 
the bird who came to the tanager's door, Chip 
always met him with scolding and fluttering 
wings, and drove him away. 

As he grew more familiar with the tanager, 
Chip began to talk to him, a little low chatter, 
such as he had talked to Chipee, with eyes fixed 
on his red neighbor. 

Chip's fondness for the silent tanager con- 
tinued to grow, and he wanted to get nearer to 
him, so he took to clinging to the cage wires 
outside, as near as he could get. It must have 
been hard to hold on there, but the little fellow 
left it only to eat and bathe. When the tanager 
hopped to the other end of the cage, Chip fol- 
lowed him outside, and when he went to eat, the 
little goldfinch went too — outside. 

Once in a great while the tanager would go 
out of the cage, and then Chip was most anxious 
and troubled. He followed from perch to perch, 
and if he went into another bird's cage, Chip 
stood at the door and would not let any one come 
in. If the tanager went to the floor, Chip was 
very uneasy, leaning far over and watching him, 
and when he flew up to a perch, giving a joyous 
call. 

In the next cage to the tanager lived a robin, a 
big, fun-loving fellow, who took it upon himself 



28 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

to make the shy tanager go out into the room. 
The way he did it was to jump on the roof of 
the cage, coming down hard, right over the tana- 
ger' s head. Of course the tanager hopped across 
to another perch, and the robin began a mad 
war dance across the roof, making the tanager 
fly wildly around till he slipped out at the door. 

Chip did not approve of this way of treating 
his friend, and he set out to make the robin 
behave better. He flew at the big fellow, half a 
dozen times as big as himself, but the robin was 
not a bit scared. 

Then I came to the rescue, and fastened a 
paper over the top of the cage. This usually 
keeps birds off, but the robin seemed to like it, for 
it made more noise. He pranced back and forth 
over it with delight ; he lifted the handle of the 
cage and let it fall with a clatter ; he tore off 
bits of the paper and dropped them into the 
cage, and was as naughty as he could be. All 
the while Chip was scolding and flying at him, 
trying to peck him, and doing his very best to 
protect his friend. 

When spring came, the tanager woke up and 
showed an interest in things. He began to sing, 
he took soaking baths, and he spent much time 
at the window looking out on the trees as they 
put on their green spring coats. 



THE GOLDFINCH'S DEVOTION 29 

Now, too, he began to be cross to Chip. He 
had never seemed to care for his little friend, he 
had only endured his attentions, but now he was 
really unkind to him, and poor Chip was very 
unhappy about it. 

I waited only till it was warm enough to be 
safe to let the tanager out, and then I took him 
into the country away from English sparrows 
and set him free. Chip moped a little while, 
but there was always so much going on in the 
Bird Room that he soon found something else to 
interest him. 



A MADCAP THRUSH 

I 

The most amusing bird I ever saw was an 
English blackbird. One who knows our Amer- 
ican thrushes would never look for pranks and 
" show-off " performances in that dignified fam- 
ily. Yet this madcap was a thrush — the black 
thrush. 

He had not been in the house ten minutes 
before he began to exhibit his accomplishments. 
First he looked the new cage over from top to 
bottom, tried every perch, tasted the food, flirted 
out a few drops of water, and then settled him- 
self on the middle perch, fixed his eyes upon me, 
and prepared to sing. 

I was charmed with his readiness ; I held my 
breath ! Now I should hear the famous English 
blackbird, whose praise is sung by the poets of 
Europe. I did. I heard him whistle out, loud 
and clear — a pure Yankee air ! 

Down fell my hopes, for if there is one thing 
I specially dislike, it is a bird trained to whistle 
like a boy, and I remembered with disgust that 



A MADCAP THRUSH 31 

I had promised to entertain the bird all winter 
while his young master was abroad in search of 
health. I wondered if I was doomed to listen 
to that stupid tune for six months. It soon 
became plain that I was — and worse, for he 
had forgotten or had never learned the end of 
the strain, and that lost chord he was forever 
seeking. 

After I got over my first disappointment, I 
tried to help him out, for he really seemed much 
concerned about it ; but I did not know the air, 
and he refused all my attempts to make an end 
to it. 

He did not scorn my help. If I began, he 
would join in and make a duet of it, and if I 
stopped at the end of a few notes, he would 
take it up at that point and finish it. If I 
whistled it wrong to try him, he at once cor- 
rected me by repeating it as it should be. 

All through the first evening till ten o'clock 
he sat on that middle perch and whistled his 
unfinished strain, and not one note of his own 
song did I hear. 

The next day I was treated to a curious sight. 
The room where I sat at work was separated 
from his by portieres, and he did not see me, 
though I could look through a crack and see 
him. Hearing a queer, low song, I peeped at 



32 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

him, and there he was on the floor of his cage 
dancing a jig — I don't know what else to call it. 

His eyes were fixed on the middle perch, two 
or three inches above his head, as if he were ad- 
dressing some one on that spot, and he was jump- 
ing and tiptoeing around in the drollest way. 

First he hopped back and forth with mincing 
steps, singing a whispering song all the while, 
and moving his head from side to side. Then 
he sprang lightly to the lowest perch, just above 
the floor, instantly jumped down and scrambled 
across the floor, and then turned and bounded 
over the middle perch without touching it, as if 
he had suddenly gone mad. Such a figure as 
he was ! The feathers on the top of his head 
stood up like a crest, his mouth was half open, 
his wings were held a little out, and his tail 
was spread open like a fan. 

While I looked on at this queer performance, 
he seemed all at once to think of something. 

He ran up the three perches to the top, and 
began his whistle. The show was over for that 
time. 

II 
But that was not the end of the thrush's per- 
formances. He amused himself every day with 
similar antics. Sometimes he began by flying 



A MADCAP THRUSH 33 

madly back and forth between the two upper 
perches, with crest raised, tail spread, and wings 
open, then dropped to the floor and stood before 
his door, uttering low, strange sounds that I can't 
describe, looking through the wires as though he 
saw some one outside to whom he was talking, 
jerking his head, and wriggling his body in a 
droll way ; and while I looked through the peep- 
hole, he jumped back to the upper perch and 
burst out with a loud " Chack ! chack ! chack ! " 
— a regular blackbird call. 

A few minutes later the fit seized him again ; 
and down he went to the floor. 

He pretended to snatch something from the 
gravel and fling it across the cage ; then, point- 
ing his beak to a particular spot on the bottom 
of the cage, he hopped around in a circle, his 
wings fluttering, his feathers puffed out, and all 
the time singing the sweetest notes, so low that I 
could hardly hear them. 

With these antics he amused himself every day 
when he thought he was alone ; but one evening, 
when the family were all out, he deliberately took 
it upon himself to entertain me. He began 
whistling his tune, and after two or three notes 
broke it off and ended with what sounded like 
talk. Then he took up the air where he had 
dropped it, and ended in a noise like a laugh. 



34 TEUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

Again he resumed his air, and interrupted himself 
with a whistle like a call to a dog. A fourth 
time he started that whistle, got three or four 
notes farther, and ended with a sound like a kiss. 

I pretended not to notice him, and he went on 
with the most comical performance I ever heard 
from a bird ; every time beginning the air he had 
been taught, and bursting into something else. 
Beside the sounds I have spoken of, he made 
sometimes a tremolo of the last note, which was 
really delightful. Again, he gave a droll " Que ! 
que ! " then a " Wee-o ! " and so on. 

All the time the whistled part was loud and 
clear, and the funny additions were low, as if to 
himself. 

It seemed as if he were trying to recite his 
lesson, but was so full of fun that he had to 
indulge in these little asides. It was the oddest 
and most laughable thing I ever saw. Taken 
with his serious-looking black coat and his very 
knowing eyes, it did seem a little uncanny, and 
as if he knew altogether too much for a bird. 
In fact, though he looked like a bird, he behaved 
like a monkey. 

A serious trouble in the blackbird's life with 
me was that I would not let him spatter the wall- 
paper with the food and water he was always 
flinging about, as if that were the only use he 



A MADCAP THRUSH 35 

had for them. Behind his cage I fastened up a 
sheet of stiff buff wrapping-paper, and to tear 
that to bits was the task he set himself. He was 
a faithful worker, I must admit. First he ham- 
mered the paper with his stout yellow beak till 
he picked a hole in it, and then with the same 
useful bill he seized the edge, and pulled and 
tugged till he tore it. 

If he could get a piece off, he was happy. He 
took it into the cage, and visited upon that bit 
his hatred of the whole sheet. He beat it so 
rapidly that it sounded like the roll of a small 
drum ; he flung it about, he scraped it on the 
floor, and never rested till it was reduced to 
scraps, or dropped out the cage. 

When I put his house in order for the day, I 
always gave him a piece of fresh apple, wedged 
in between two wires, where I hoped it would 

v for him to peck at ; but the blackbird had 
other designs upon the apple. He wanted it 
to play with. Faithfully he pushed and pulled 
and twisted till he got the piece out, and then 
took it down for a mad frolic. He would fling 
it from side to side, then snatch at it, and in- 
itlv spring up on the side of the cage and 
hold on to the wires, looking scared out of his 
wits, as if it had bitten him. Then he would go 
down and worry it again. 



36 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

Sometimes, lifting one wing, he would pounce 
upon the bit of apple as if it were a savage 
enemy that must be destroyed, and in a second 
bound up on the middle perch as though he 
expected to be murdered instantly. 

Through all these performances he kept up 
the sweet, low singing. Everything he did was 
in a jerky way, and I never could guess what 
would come next. 

He appeared to rack his brain to think of new 
pranks, and if everything else failed, he would 
dash his gravel out over the carpet. I have even 
seen him thrust his naughty head between the 
wires and drop out a beakful of mockingbird 
food. 

After this fashion he " carried on " all winter, 
and though I did not particularly enjoy him as 
a bird, as a clown in a cage, an entertainer for a 
dull hour, he was the funniest I ever saw in 
feathers. 



THE BABY ROBIN 

I 

Ever since I read somewhere a charming 
sketch of a tame robin named Bob, all robins 
have been Bob or Bobby to me, so when a baby 
of the family came into my Bird Room to spend 
the winter, his name was all ready for him. 
Bobby he became from that minute. 

That he was a baby I knew partly by his 
youthful ways, and partly by the fact that he 
had not entirely put off the spotted bib which 
marks the infancy of the thrush. He was a 
knowing youngster, however; he had his own 
opinions, and never hesitated to speak his mind, 
though I could not always understand him. 

The robin had no notion of losing his interest 
in life and the world around him because fate 
had decreed that he should live in a house. On 
the contrary, he seemed as much interested, and 
as eager to note the strange things that went on 
inside our walls, as we are to observe the man- 
ners of the foreign folk whose homes we visit. 

The doings of the people thus suddenly be- 



38 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

come his neighbors he studied with curiosity ; 
but one thing in his new world he was already 
familiar with, and that was the birds. He real- 
ized at once that he must make and keep his 
place among them, and he proceeded to do this 
the moment he learned how to go in and out of 
his own particular apartment in that strange, 
new place. 

He had some difficulty at first, because the 
door to his cage was rather low, — as cage doors 
are apt to be, — and he stood up so straight that 
he passed it forty times before he saw that there 
was a door, and that it was wide open. He had 
to stoop a little to go out. 

The part of the room that the robin at once 
claimed as his own private promenade was across 
the tops of two large cages which stood side by 
side on a shelf, — one being his own, — and he 
made it part of his daily duty to see that no one 
trespassed upon it. Woe to the unlucky blue- 
bird or oriole who dared set foot on that sacred 
spot ! Down upon him instantly came Master 
Bobby with fury in his eye, so big and bustling 
in manner that no one was brave enough to stay 
and face him. 

No one, did I say ? I must except one — a 
little Baltimore oriole, who was ragged and tail- 
less, but so bold and saucy that I shall tell her 
story in another paper. 



THE BABY ROBIN 39 

Another duty the robin took upon himself — 
to assist me in seeing that every bird in the 
room had his daily outing. Soon after the cage 
doors were opened in the morning Bobby looked 
around, and if he saw any of the feathered folk 
who lingered by the food-cup and did not take 
advantage of their privilege, he went at once to 
attend to it. 

His manner of effecting this purpose was com- 
pletely successful. He simply pounced upon the 
top of a cage, and carried on such pranks over 
the head of the bird within that he was glad to 
fly out and leave the cage to the enemy. The 
robin cared nothing for the cage, however ; he 
merely wanted to drive its tenant out, and the 
moment that was done he went his way. 

It may appear strange that, being a robin and 
consequently fond of the ground, Bobby did not 
lay claim to the floor of his new territory. He 
did desire to do so, but there was a slight diffi- 
culty in the way. Another claimant was ahead 
of him, and one who looked well able to main- 
tain his ground — a blue jay. Against all oth- 
ers in the room the robin did defend the floor, 
always rushing up to see what was wanted when 
any bird ventured to alight on the matting. 

The blue jay was too big to take liberties with, 
and he became an object of the greatest inter- 



40 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

est to the young robin. The jay was himself 
little more than a baby, who had lived with peo- 
ple from the nest, and was therefore quite used 
to a house. In fact, he knew no other home, 
and Bobby watched everything he did with a 
sort of admiring awe, as we have all seen a little 
boy watch the performances of a big boy. 



II 

When the blue jay was hopping about the 
floor, busy with his own affairs, which were 
always of the utmost importance, in his opinion, 
the robin often stood on a low table or chair, 
and looked at him, following every movement 
with deep concern. If the jay devoted himself 
to some particular thing, like hammering a nut, 
and went to the round of a chair to do it, his 
admirer came as near as he thought safe, on the 
floor, and observed the operation closely. 

Sometimes, after looking on for a while, the 
robin, too, hunted about for a plaything, and 
brought a match, a pin, or a bit of nutshell that 
he picked up on the floor, and laid it before the 
jay, as if to challenge him to a frolic. What- 
ever was his intention, the jay was far too busy 
a personage to play ; his life was full of serious 
duties, and he never accepted the invitation. 



THE BABY ROBIN 41 

One thing the blue jay persisted in doing that 

was almost too much for Bobbv to endure — 

j 

that was taking his bath first. The two birds 
used the same broad, shallow dish on the floor ; 
and when the jay got possession, the robin 
would dance around in a circle, running and 
hopping as near as he could without being spat- 
tered, quite frantic to go in. But his big rival 
was specially fond of a good soaking himself, 
and he often kept Bobby waiting some time. 

When at last the way was open, Bobby rushed 
into the water, stepping upon the edge of the 
dish with one foot, as a human being would do, 
and taking his turn at a soak. On coming out 
he fanned himself nearly dry, hopping about the 
floor and beating violently sometimes one wing, 
sometimes both wings. 

He had, too, a curious fancy for coming upon 
a small stand near me to dress his plumage. It 
was not at all a good place, for there was no 
perch to cling to while he twisted around to 
plume himself. But it was his choice, and he 
insisted on coming there, though when he tried 
to reach his tail feathers his feet slipped and he 
turned round and round like a kitten chasing its 
own tail, making a laughable show of himself. 

The robin baby, like others of his age, was 
fond of play. A favorite game was to run 



42 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

across the two cages he considered his own, and, 
at the end, jump heavily on the paper cover of a 
smaller cage a foot away. Of course the first 
bounce sent the owner out in a hurry, and then 
Bobby ran and jumped till he was tired of it. 

Another way he had of amusing himself was 
trying to pull out the ends of strings that hung 
loose where the matting was joined. One of 
these was always irresistible to the bird. He 
seized it in his beak, and pulled and tugged at 
it so hard that he was often jerked off his feet. 
The fact that he never got one out did not dis- 
courage him in the least ; he was always ready 
to attack another when he found it. 

A string was his great delight ; he dragged 
it about, and worried it as he did a worm. It 
sometimes got him into trouble. On one occa- 
sion he found a long piece of thread, and before 
I noticed him, had so tangled it around one leg 
and foot that he could not spread his toes, nor, 
of course, stand on that foot, and he was very 
much frightened. I could not catch him while 
he was out in the room without scaring him still 
more, and he worked at it himself a long time 
before he went into his cage. As soon as he 
did that, I caught him and cut off the thread 
with scissors, though it was so twisted around 
that I had to cut fifteen or twenty times before 
it came off. 




BABY ROBIN 



THE BABY ROBIN 43 

Bobby showed the common-sense for which 
his family is noted, by submitting quietly, as soon 
as he understood that I was trying to help him, 
and letting that leg hang down, while the other 
was held up. 

A newspaper on the floor always furnished the 
robin with much entertainment. After jerking 
it about, and lifting it to peer under the edge, 
he would pounce into the middle, peck a hole, 
and then seize the edge of the opening and tear 
the paper into strips. The tearing sound always 
startled him and sent him off, — as it does nearly 
every bird, — but the fun of doing it was so 
great that he always came back and did it again. 

One trouble came into the life of my robin 
that for weeks made him very unhappy. It was 
a feather in one wing, of which the feathery 
part was missing — worn off, apparently. This 
he plainly considered a disgrace to any robin, — 
birds are very sensitive about the condition of 
their plumage, — and he determined to pull it 
out. He worked at it many hours, but for some 
reason could not dislodge it ; but he did succeed 
in making himself very miserable about it, and I 
was glad that spring and the time of his freedom 
was near. 

As that magical season came on Bobby grew 
restless, and worked off his superfluous energy on 



44 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

his roommates. He chased the birds about ; he 
made war on a shy tanager ; he performed war 
dances on the cages; he tried to put an end to 
all quiet life. 

In fact, he became so troublesome in my little 
colony that I was glad, on the first warm day, to 
take the robin — a baby no longer — out to the 
country and bid him farewell. 



THE GOLDFINCH'S FUN 

I 

When I introduced to my room the English 
blackbird, some of whose pranks I have related, 
there hung on the opposite side of the bay-win- 
dow a smaller cage, in which lived another for- 
eigner — an English goldfinch. 

This bird was quite old, and had almost ceased 
to sing. He had been for ten years in my 
house, and had seen forty or fifty feathered folk, 
of almost as many kinds, come and go. He was 
nearly as much interested in bird study as I 
was, and he watched and pondered over every 
stranger as if he meant to put him in a book. 

When I opened the goldfinch's door, as usual, 
on the morning of the blackbird's arrival, he 
paid no attention to his beloved bath, but in- 
stantly flew over and alighted on the cage of 
the newcomer. 

This did not please the gentleman in black. 
He stretched far up and saluted his visitor with 
a decided " Chack ! " that the small bird under- 
stood, for he flew at once to a perch resting 



46 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

against the wires of the blackbird's cage, where 
he could stand three inches from the cage, see 
every movement of the strangely behaved new- 
comer, and yet be quite beyond his reach. 

There he sat hour after hour, as much inter- 
ested as if the whole performance were a show 
for his amusement. He seemed perfectly en- 
tranced; he would hardly leave his place for 
food or water, and for the first time I had 
trouble to get him into his cage at night. 

And no wonder ! If ever there was a clown 
in feathers, the blackbird was one. He took 
notice of his little observer, of course ; he no- 
ticed everything, and though he generally pre- 
ferred to chatter and sing and show off to the 
people about him, he did occasionally conde- 
scend to pay attention to the bird. 

Sometimes he scolded him in a loud " Chack ! 
chack ! chack ! " as if reproving him for his 
curiosity about his neighbors' affairs. Some- 
times the goldfinch would sidle along an inch 
on the perch, as if he thought the queer black 
fellow might reach him ; but he knew enough 
about cages to be sure that he was safe three 
inches away. 

Again, the blackbird would come close to the 
wires on his side, and address his little audience 
of one in a low, talking tone. The goldfinch 



THE GOLDFINCH'S FUN 47 

would reply, usually with a gentle scold. Upon 
this, the blackbird apparently resolved not to 
notice him. He went to the floor, turned his 
back, and interested himself in the gravel, or 
began one of his comical dances. 

This proceeding the smaller bird looked upon 
with the closest attention, drawing nearer till he 
almost touched the wires. But when, in some 
of his frisking about, the blackbird approached 
that side of the cage, the goldfinch dashed away 
as though he feared his strange neighbor might 
come through. Then the dancer hopped lightly 
to the upper perch, spread wide his tail, lifted it 
with a flourish, and let it fall gracefully back to 
place, expressing — as I translated it — satis- 
faction that he had put the starer to flight. 

The goldfinch did not stay away long. He 
was unable to resist the fascinations of his droll 
neighbor. In a few moments he came back and 
began a low chatter, which he kept up most of 
the time. Many of the thrush's antics were for 
the benefit of this little spectator, as if to make 
believe that he did n't care if he did stand and 
stare at him. 

Once he had a grand frolic over one of the 
goldfinch's feathers which happened to fall into 
the cage, while the owner paused a second to 
look down on him. He was moulting, and his 



48 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

feathers dropped easily. The moment it fell the 
blackbird pounced on it ; and the way he " car- 
ried on " with it was funny to see, though the 
little fellow looked rather disturbed, as if he felt 
that a part of himself was being trifled with. 

The blackbird literally wiped the floor with 
that gay feather ; then he danced across the 
cage sidewise, appearing half afraid of it. Again, 
he beat it against a perch, flung it into the air 
and caught it before it fell, and at last tossed it 
into a corner as if it were unworthy his notice. 

Soon after, he began to perform around the 
end of a perch as though it were a hobgoblin of 
the most frightful sort, opening his mouth wide, 
raising and fluttering his wings, swaying his 
head from side to side, and glaring at it as 
though he would eat it in half a minute. 



II 
The one thing that aroused the blackbird to 
genuine fury was seeing his rival bathe. His 
own bath was the principal event of the day in 
his opinion, and he was so violent in his splash- 
ings that it was necessary to take him into a 
room where he could do no injury. He always 
sprinkled the table and the carpet and furniture 
for several feet around. 



THE GOLDFINCH'S FUN 49 

Even when he had just returned from this 
daily excursion, and was not yet dry from his 
own soaking, it excited him wildly to see any one 
else in the water. He dashed around his cage, 
fluttered his wings as he did in spattering, 
pecked savagely at the wires, rushed to his 
water dish, flirted out every drop he could, and 
finally raised his head feathers like a crest, and 
looked reproachfully over at me, as if I had 
treated another better than I had treated him. 

All the time he uttered a low cry, a sort of 
" Seep " with the mouth closed, and turned every 
other second to see his little neighbor splashing 
in his gentle way. 

That little neighbor, too, took a rather 
naughty delight in coming close to the black- 
bird to shake himself, and thus sometimes to 
throw a drop or two upon him. At this the 
blackbird shook himself as though a drop of 
water were poison to him ; and then he went to 
the floor and busied himself with some important 
matter, as if he did not know there was such a 
bird in the room. 

The goldfinch, as I said, had nearly lost his 
pretty song, but sometimes he tried to sing a 
little in his old way. This the blackbird appar- 
ently regarded as a direct insult to him. Per- 
haps he thought it intended for mockery of 



50 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

him, for as soon as the little fellow began, he 
struck in with his loudest whistle — his Yankee 
air. That always silenced the goldfinch, for he 
could never get used to hearing a bird whistle 
in so unbirdlike a way. 

One curious trick that the blackbird occasion- 
ally played off upon his little watcher outside 
showed a grim sense of humor that was perhaps 
the most uncanny thing about him. He would 
crouch on the floor, touching it with his breast, 
every feather erected, head raised, and eyes 
glaring; and when one was sure he was about 
to do something madder than ever before, he 
would suddenly rise to his feet in the most quiet 
manner, drop his feathers back in their place, 
and go on about his business as if he never 
thought of a prank. Upon this the goldfinch 
always seemed startled, and uttered a note or 
two in an inquiring tone. 

Then the blackbird turned his attention to 
the goldfinch, and he always made one think of 
a savage warrior about to swallow up or totally 
destroy his enemy. He had a way of wiping his 
beak on the perch that looked like sharpening it 
for instant use, and if he had been out, I am sure 
the little fellow would have been afraid of him. 

He scraped his beak violently, then looked 
over at the bird outside, then glanced at me, 



THE GOLDFINCH'S FUN 51 

shook himself vigorously, wiped his bill again, 
and all in a jerky way as if he could hardly con- 
tain himself. In a moment he turned his back 
on the goldfinch, dropped to the floor, and pro- 
ceeded to attack the middle perch as if it had 
mortally offended him. 

There was one thing, however, that frightened 
him, and that — strange to say — was a long 
stick. The father of the family is fond of fish- 
ing, and his rods are dear to his heart ; but 
never, so long as the blackbird lived in the 
house, coidd he bring one into the room with- 
out putting the bird into such a panic that we 
feared he would beat himself to death against 
his cage. 

This was no show performance, either, al- 
though the little goldfinch — who had long ago 
learned the harmless character of a fishing-rod, 
to birds at least — looked on with the same in- 
terest with which he viewed all the actions of 
his strange neighbor in black. 

When at last his young master returned, and 
the English blackbird went back to his home, the 
goldfinch seemed greatly to miss his daily show. 

He lost all interest in coming out of his cage, 
and for several months after he seemed to be 
waiting and looking for some one to amuse him, 
as did his strange black visitor of the winter. 



THE COMICAL CHEWINK 

I 

One day when I chanced to drop into a bird 
store, — for I can never pass one without going 
in, — I saw a bird that was new to me, and 
strangely enough the owner could give it no 
name. " It was some common thing/' he said ; 
" a boy brought it in, and though he did n't 
care for it, he bought it to please the boy ; he 
could put it in his window cage." Then, dis- 
gusted to find that I had not come in to spend 
twenty-five dollars for a loud-singing mocking- 
bird to drive me crazy in a city house, or fifty 
dollars for a parrot who would shriek me wild 
in a week, the man walked off to the back of 
his den, and left me to look at the stranger as 
long as I liked. 

The bird was bright and attractive, and not 
at all afraid of me, regarding me with nearly as 
much curiosity as I regarded him. I longed to 
take him home and get better acquainted with 
him. But my room was full. I had no place 
for another cage, and I had to leave him. 



THE COMICAL CHEWINK 53 

The next June, on the Hoosac Mountains, I 
was greatly delighted by an exquisite bird-song 

— a perfect tremolo, like a peal of silver bells. 
After much search I found the singer — a che- 
wink or towhee bunting. All through nesting 
time I enjoyed his music. I found his nest, and 
saw madam his spouse, and their one solitary 
baby in its cradle in the grass. 

After I came back to the city, one day in 
looking up birds to fill my Bird Room for the 
winter, I went into the same old bird store. 
The moment my eyes fell upon the stranger, — 
still living in the big show cage in the window, 

— I knew it. It was a female chewink, in her 
modest dress of brown. Of course I could not 
hope to hear the tremolo that so stirred me on 
the mountain, but I could at least learn some 
chewink ways. I brought her home, gave her a 
fine large wire room to herself, and shortened 
her name to " Winks." 

The first morning a bird spends in my Bird 
Room he is most interested in seeing the other 
birds at their bath. They seldom have a chance 
to bathe in a crowded store, and the splashing 
they hear always sets the poor little creatures 
nearly frantic. Winks was like the rest ; no 
sooner did bathing begin than she came down 
to the floor of her cage, and looked out sharply 



54 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

as if she said, " Can it be possible ? are they 
really in the water? " 

In a moment she began to shake herself, and 
to run back and forth, trying to get out. Her 
wishes were as plain to me as if she asked in 
so many words to have a bath. I gave her a 
chance, and she took a good soaking, the first 
in a year, I suppose, poor thing ! 

The next day she made up her mind that 
she preferred to bathe in her water dish, which 
was about the size of a coffee-cup. It seemed 
absurd to bathe in a three-inch cup when there 
was a ten-inch bathtub at her disposal; so I 
thought I would cure her of that notion by 
giving her something altogether too small for 
the purpose, — a glass dish out of a small cage, 
about an inch in diameter and rather deep. 

That did not discourage her in the least ; she 
seemed rather to like it, and though the tub full 
of water was right before her eyes, she insisted 
on using only the cup. Her way was very comi- 
cal. She thrust her head in, and then bent her 
wings and shook her feathers as if she had been 
into the water all over. Sometimes she was so 
eager about it that she fairly threw herself off 
her feet, and her head would go in out of sight 
while her tail stood straight up, and her feet for 
an instant pawed the air wildly. A very droll 



THE COMICAL CHE WINK 55 

figure she made of herself ; but it seemed to 
please her. for it was a long time before she 
formed the habit of bathing outside. 

I said her tail stood up. I should have said 
the tail coverts, or the short feathers that cover 
the top of that member, for tail she had none ; 
she was moulting. Much of the expression of a 
bird depends upon the tail, but Winks managed 
to perk up those coverts in a manner as saucy as 
she did the long tail, when it came out. 



II 

My chewink had some curious ways. In the 
first place she insisted on sitting on the floor. 
This did not surprise me. since the chewink is a 
ground bird, getting its food there, and even 
making its cozy little nest in a hollow in the 
gra 

She would bend her long legs and sit perfectly 
flat on the gravel, an hour at a time. Sometimes 
she turned her face to the room, so that she 
could be amused by the panorama of bird life 
about her ; but now and then she hid her head 
in the back corner of the cage, probably to take 
a nap, though it looked as if she had turned 
her back upon a frivolous world and the pranks 
of blue jays and orioles, for serious meditation. 



56 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

This, too, was her chosen attitude for a sun 
bath ; and I never saw a bird who could make 
herself so flat. It is no doubt the way these 
birds conceal themselves in the great out of 
doors ; and in that attitude they must have been 
almost invisible on the grass-tufted, pebbly hill- 
sides where I found them living. 

A queer freak of my chewink was her deter- 
mination to get her feet into her food. She 
had mockingbird food mixed with grated carrot, 
which many birds toss about, daintily picking 
out only the bits they like. But Winks wanted 
to scratch hers, like an old hen ; and scratch she 
did, too, in spite of all I could do. 

Her way was funny. It was to jump into the 
dish with both feet, give one vigorous scratch, 
and then spring out again, almost before one 
could see what she did. 

This trick, too, I tried to cure, but the bird 
had a way of doing as she liked. She laughed 
me to scorn, so to speak. I took away her broad 
dish and put her food in a small after-dinner cof- 
fee-cup, not much wider than her foot was long. 
Even into this the naughty Winks would jump, 
give one wild flirt with her feet, and then out, and 
she would not eat till she had done it. I never 
could cure her. 

It was not because she was dull about learn- 



THE COMICAL CHEWINK 57 

ing. She was very bright about other things ; 
for instance, about learning to use a ladder. 
One day when I was out something happened, — - 
I don't know what, — but on my return I found 
in her ea^e twelve whi£ feathers. She had 
either beaten herself against the cage or deliber- 
ately pulled them out. 

The result was seen the next morning — she 
could not fly. When she started out on her usual 
tour of the room, she came plump to the floor. 

I brought at once, and put up to the door of 
her cage, a light ladder which I keep for the use 
of disabled birds. The moment she saw it she 
hopped up, round after round, in an experiment- 
ing sort of way, to see where they led, until she 
reached her doorway. Contrary to my intention 
at this point, she did not go in, but hopped to 
the top of her open door, and then scrambled to 
the roof of the cage. There she was as badly 
off as before ; for no bird that is disabled will 
try to fly downward. 

I waited till she grew hungry and uneasy, and 
yet she would not venture to hop down the short 
distance. Then I made use of the meal-worm 
argument. It is the most potent " persuader " I 
know for birds which eat worms. Taking one of 
these unpleasant creatures in a pair of printer's 
tweezers that I keep for the purpose, and being 



58 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

careful to pick out a lively one, I drop it on the 
floor of the bird's cage. The main object in life 
with these wriggling things being to get out of 
sight, it starts instantly for a hiding-place. The 
movement attracts the eye of the hungry bird 
on the roof, and he is at once frantic to seize 
and stop the escape of his prey. In his eager- 
ness he forgets his fear of falling, and is almost 
certain to clamber down the side of his cage, and 
rush in after what he considers a choice morsel. 

A comical performance of the chewink was 
to fly about the cage as if she had gone mad. 
From perch to perch she went in a wild fashion, 
using wings as well as legs, and ended up stand- 
ing on the middle perch, flapping her wings like a 
crowing cock, and crying, " Chewink! chewink!'' 
as loud as she could call. She never condescended 
to amuse herself. I think she was old, and had 
outlived the follies of her youth. She went on 
her way about the room, paying no attention to 
any one, and giving a saucy toss of her tail — 
after it grew out — that seemed to warn all whom 
it might concern not to meddle with her. 

At any rate, no one did interfere ; and when 
the spring fever set in among my birds, the 
chewink was the first to go her way in the world 
out of doors, where I hope she is alive and well 
to-day. 



POLLY'S PRANKS 

I 

Polly was a snowy white cockatoo, with beau- 
tiful yellow crest, who lived in a pleasant home 
in New York. The one object of her life, when 
I first knew her, was to get out of her cage. 

She might have stayed out all the time, for it 
was a pet-ridden house, and the family was used 
to all sorts of beast and bird pranks. She 
might, I say, but for one or two notions which 
she had. One was an incurable dislike of beads, 
and another an equally strong liking for buttons. 

The beads she attacked as if they were ene- 
mies, biting them off a lady's dress much faster 
than they had been sewed on, and flinging them 
away with a spiteful jerk that sprinkled the car- 
pet like a shower of glass. No matter what 
other attractions were in a room, if a lady hap- 
pened to wear a bit of sparkling bead trimming, 
the instant Polly was free she flew or waddled 
across the floor, and went to work at it, and 
neither coaxing nor scolding had the smallest 
effect upon her. 



60 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

With buttons it was otherwise. She seemed 
to delight in them. To be sure, she bit them 
off, but it was in the way old Izaak Walton says 
a fisherman must put a hook through a worm, 
" as if he loved it." She snapped off the but- 
tons with her scissors-like beak, but she did not 
throw them away ; she chewed them up. If no 
one happened to notice her, the naughty bird 
would snatch every button from her mistress's 
dress, or her master's coat, more quickly than a 
person could do it with a knife. 

Another of this bird's tricks was to attack 
people's feet, and as she had a beak like a pick- 
axe, and never hesitated to use it, she was the 
terror of children and servants. 

Children, indeed, she particularly disliked. 
She squawked at them if she could not get out 
of her cage, and she flew at them if she could. 

These, with other troublesome fancies, con- 
demned Madam Polly to a cage, and, as I said 
before, to get out of that gilded prison was her 
sole business in life. 

First she would coax, and her way was most 
droll. She began by saying pathetically, " Poor 
Polly ! " to call attention to her wishes. If any 
one looked at her, she at once began to bow in 
the most persuasive and violent manner. If 
that did not bring deliverance, she wriggled 



POLLY'S PRANKS 61 

from side to side, opening and quivering her 
wings, and almost twisting her neck off in her 
attempts to be winning, her big, dark eyes all 
the time eagerly fixed upon the one she hoped 
would open her door. 

If these curious antics had no effect, she 
squawked savagely, and so loud that conversa- 
tion could not be heard in the room ; but her 
crowning effort, and one that usually was suc- 
cessful, was a wheedling little song — a most 
ludicrous performance. It sounded like a child 
trying to sing in a high key and with the qua- 
vering, shaky voice of an old woman. It was 
the funniest song a bird ever uttered, I am sure, 
and no one could resist this supreme attempt to 
please. 

If dinner was going on when she came out, 
she rushed at once for the table, climbed up by 
the cloth, or the dress of a friend, and proceeded 
to look over the dishes, make her choice, and 
help herself. Oatmeal she liked ; green corn, 
too, and a chicken bone to pick ; but her special 
delight was in green peas, which she neatly ex- 
tracted from their delicate skins, and ate with 
great daintiness. So strong was this liking that 
the sight of raw peas set her wild till some were 
given to her. Then she took a pod deftly in 
one claw, held it up, and removed the peas one 



62 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

after another, dropping the cleaned-out skins as 
she went on. 

After eating all she wanted, if she chanced to 
be in an amiable mood, Polly liked to " show 
off " to a stranger, and she had a comical way. 
She climbed up the back of a chair, stood on 
the top, fixed her eyes on the one she intended 
to charm by the performance, and, the moment 
that person looked at her, began. 



II 
To begin with, Polly jerked herself up to her 
greatest height, as if a spring had gone off in- 
side her like a Jack-in-the-box, every feather 
erect, crest standing straight up, and delivered 
herself of her greatest accomplishment, " Cocka- 
too Cracker ! " with a satisfied air, as if nothing 
could go beyond that. The next instant she 
crouched on her perch as low as possible ; then 
bowed many times as fast as she could, as though 
she were hammering something. She performed 
the most ridiculous capers, which somehow re- 
minded one of the puppy ish gambols of a big, 
awkward dog. Then, if her door were not opened 
for all her coaxing and storming, madam pro- 
ceeded to open it, or at least to try to open it. 
No wire, no string, no intricacy of knots or de- 
vice of twisting, could baffle her. 



POLLY'S PRANKS 63 

She was very knowing, and her beak and 
claws — hands, they almost deserve to be called 
— were as useful as many people's fingers. She 
would work with the utmost patience at any 
fastening, cutting string or small wire, till she 
got the door open. The only thing she could 
not master was a padlock with the key removed. 
She could turn the key if it were left in. 

When her door was actually locked, and she 
knew it, her anger was roused ; and she at once 
expressed her opinion of the world in general, 
and her master in particular, by first shaking 
her door until it seemed that the hinges must 
give way, and then wreaking her vengeance on 
the seed and water cups. These she shook 
loose, and then pushed out of their places upon 
the floor. A wide scattering of seeds or a fine 
shower of water delighted her, and relieved her 
mind. 

After enduring this annoyance for some time, 
her master brought other tiny padlocks, one for 
each dish ; and after that, not only her door, but 
each dish, was securely locked in when it was 
necessary to shut her up. 

She was not conquered even then. Seed and 
water could not be locked in, and she could 
thrust her big beak into her seed cup, and fling 
the contents halfway across the room. If the 



64 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

seed was so low in the cup that she could not 
do that, she gathered a beakful and tossed it out 
upon the carpet, treating water in the same way, 
till neither food nor drink was left in her cage. 

This seemed to be a great relief to her feelings, 
as harsh words or deeds are supposed to be with 
bigger folk. Before she gave up trying to open 
the padlocks, she would work awhile at the door, 
then rush madly to her seed cup and fling out a 
lot of seed, then hurry back to the padlock again. 

Polly's last resource when she could not open 
the door, and seed and water were all gone, was 
to squawk insultingly at the top of her voice, 
"Ya!ya!ya!" 

Heading aloud was always a trial to the cocka- 
too, and she generally kept up a low, mocking 
talk, like the long-drawn-out " Craw ! craw ! 
craw ! " of a hen as she walks about the poul- 
try yard delivering her opinions to the feathered 
world around her. If she were not noticed, this 
talk became sometimes so loud that she had to 
be put into another room. 

This was a dreadful thing, for poor Polly was 
the greatest coward I ever saw in feathers. 
Being left alone was her severest punishment, and 
always prompted her to do the most mischief she 
could think of. 

One day, by some carelessness, the padlock on 



POLLY'S PRANKS 65 

her door was not fastened, and Polly had the 
sitting-room to herself for an hour. On the 
return of the mistress, she was met at the door 
by bows and cries of u Poor Polly/' and repeti- 
tions of everything the bird could say, in the 
most coaxing manner. 

She knew at once that mischief had been done, 
and one glance was enough. Polly had enjoyed 
a fine frolic with her work-basket. Such a wreck 
is not often seen : needles from their papers and 
pins from their box strewed the carpet ; the 
remains of pearl buttons that she had snipped to 
bits lay thick as snowflakes over the floor ; 
spools had been nibbled, thread and silk cut into 
short lengths and scattered about ; a gold thimble 
dented past using in her efforts to bite it ; and 
the delicate basket itself pulled apart and broken. 

It looked as if a cyclone had struck that work- 
basket, and Polly was almost too happy to stay 
inside her feathers, but it was her last prank in 
the parlor. Her padlocks were never again for- 
gotten. 



POLLY'S OUTING 

I 
Full of naughtiness as she was, Polly, the 
cockatoo, was very dear to the hearts of the 
family, and, like Mary's lamb, — 

Everywhere the mistress went 
The bird was sure to go. 

So one June she traveled out on Long Island 
for her summer outing. This was great fun for 
Madam Polly, for she was out of doors most of the 
time. It was thought that she could do no harm 
in the country, but the cockatoo had a keen scent 
for mischief. She had not been there a day be- 
fore she showed what she could do in that line. 

Her cage was hung against the trunk of a 
cherry-tree, which was covered thickly with small 
green balls that the people hoped would become 
cherries in time ; but Polly had other plans, and 
took it upon herself to attend to those absurd 
cherries. 

The first thing she did when her door was 
opened was to seize a low-hanging branch and 
climb into the cherry-tree. Soon she was out of 



POLLYS OUTING 67 

sight among the leaves, and then began a gentle 
but continuous shower, first of leaves and small 
twigs, which she bit off and dropped, and then 
of the cherries — to be. 

Commands and scoldings were useless. She 
was among the top branches and could not be 
reached, and she picked leaves and fruit till she 
was tired of the sport ; then she turned her atten- 
tion to the bark, and actually girdled one branch 
before she was caught at it and forced to come 
down. 

The next day she started for new fields. By 
way of the cherry-tree ladder she climbed, as Jack 
did his beanstalk, to the roof of the piazza, and 
then ran its whole length, squawking at every 
one who passed. Especially did she revile a 
peddler, never ceasing her squawks as long as he 
was in sight. Next she mocked the neighbors' 
children, whose calls she answered, strangely 
enough, with just as many squawks as there were 
words in their call. 

When she became tired of this amusement she 
settled down to " business," nibbling off the over- 
hanging edges of the newly painted clapboards 
and the edges of the slats from the new blinds. 
It was not until she had defaced the front of the 
house sadly that she was discovered and brought 
down. 



68 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

Down the front yard ran a long, old-fashioned 
grape arbor with ornamental front, which had at 
its top a pole, holding up in the air a ball sur- 
mounted by an elaborately sawed-out star. Upon 
this emblem of her country Polly next fixed her 
wicked eye, and started up. The lattice-work 
was an admirable ladder ; and stopping only to 
snip off the tender stems of a few young, grow- 
ing vines, and half a dozen strings just fastened 
up to point out to the young moon-flowers the 
way they should go, she soon reached the pole, 
climbed it, stood on the ball, and gave her mind 
to that star. 

Before any one noticed her, she had nibbled 
the edges, bitten off the points, and turned it into 
a most disreputable affair. When found, she 
was so pleased with the result of her labor that 
she scrambled upon the crazy-looking star and 
squawked at the top of her voice, fluttering her 
wings and bowing until it seemed that her head 
must come off. 

By this time the family began to think of a 
bill for damages, and madam was locked up, 
but it seemed cruel in the country to shut up a 
bird, and everything she did was so funny that 
one could n't long be vexed at her. So the next 
morning the door was again opened, and Polly 
started out on a new tack. 



POLLYS OUTING 69 

This time she mounted to the top of the ar- 
bor, and started on a promenade down the sharp 
edge of the board that formed the ridge. This 
was a brave feat for the cockatoo, who always 
liked to keep close to her friends; and she had 
adventures on the way. 

First a bee flew over, very near her head. 
This frightened her terribly. She lifted her 
wings, held one over her head to protect it, and 
crouched to avoid the attack she seemed to ex- 
pect. Then she turned and twisted, ran a few 
steps, and at last shrieked loudly for some one 
to come, not seeing that the bee had gone on 
about its business and was out of sight 



II 

Polly was afraid of everything. If a fly 

buzzed past her, she ducked her head as if she 

had been hit ; and wdien a pair of robins came 

near, engaged in a dispute about something, she 

went almost mad with fright. She ran to the 

pole which held the star, climbed it rapidly with 

k and claws, perched on the tiptop, bowed 

and spread her wings wide, then lifted them 

head like a shield. This time she did 

Dot squawk, but she was in great terror. 

Next day she had the pleasure of scaring a 



70 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

robin. She was on a side-bar of the arbor when 
one of these birds alighted on the opposite side. 
In her alarm madam bowed and called out, 
" Poor Polly ! " as if to introduce herself. The 
robin stared an instant in amazement at this 
unbirdlike performance, and then flew. 

Polly was not unlike some boys. She was a 
tyrant and a bully with those who feared her, 
and a dastardly coward with those who did not 
fear her. The least bird, coming into the cherry- 
tree, — a tiny yellow warbler, or a minute 
creeper not so big as her head, — startled her 
half out of her wits. She would drive the half- 
grown chickens all round the yard, so long as 
they ran ; but the instant one of the chickens 
stood and faced her, she turned herself and ran, 
squawking as if for life. 

There was never a droller sight than her run- 
ning down the length of the ridge board, - — 
which soon came to be her favorite promenade, 
— holding her wings out and shaking them, and 
squawking madly, stopping when she came to a 
bunch of grapes not much bigger than pin-heads 
to snip it off. 

On one side of the arbor roof was the nest of 
a chipping sparrow. We were interested to see 
what she would do with it, and ready to inter- 
fere if she should go too near. 



POLLY'S OUTING 71 

The chipping sparrow, however, was a wise 
little mother ; she did not need our help. As 
soon as the cockatoo came near, the small bird 
appeared before her, flattering as if afraid, and 
Polly at once advanced toward her. The ques- 
tion of whether she should drive or be driven 
was always decided by the actions of her op- 
ponent. 

So Polly ran, bowing and squawking, with 
crest up and her war frenzy on, while the cunning 
sparrow fluttered along, dragging her wings, 
and keeping well out of the large bird's reach 
until she had led her far enough. Then she 
slipped behind some leaves and returned to her 
nest, leaving Madam Polly staring in blank 
amazement, plainly wondering where that bird 
had gone. 

The cockatoo had very decided opinions about 
the family. With the son of the house she was 
generally at war ; she often bit him, and was 
always ready to show fight. 

AVith her mistress she was on her good be- 
havior, for she recognized her as the lawgiver 
for pets, and the locker-up of cages ; she obeyed 
her more readily than any other person. 

But her darling was the master, who let her 
do as she liked, and petted and coddled her al- 
ways. On his knee she would sit an hour at a 



72 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

time, perfectly quiet, satisfied to be near him. 
For him she would sing her droll little wheedling 
song. To his room she would go, when some- 
times she got out of her cage in the morning, 
and tap on the door to be let in. He was al- 
ways her refuge in terror or distress. 

There was nothing Polly disliked so much as 
to be left alone. If she were locked in her 
cage, she made the air ring with calls and cries, 
and if loose — even though reveling in mis- 
chief — she flew down and waddled across the 
grass — though she hated walking on the ground 
— to the always open door, and hurried in so as 
to be near somebody. 

One pleasure Polly discovered that was not 
mischief, and only one ; it was swinging. She 
liked to seize with both feet a long, hanging 
twig, and, by flapping her wings, keep herself 
in violent motion. Thus she often swung back 
and forth for a long time, hanging back down 
in an attitude that most birds greatly dislike. 

Five months of fun Polly had in the country, 
and then, with the family's return home, her 
summer outing was over. 



THE GOLDEN GOOSE 

I 

For many years there lived in my house a 
little bird, an English goldfinch, whose vaga- 
ries were very amusing to the household. His 
supreme desire was for a friend, or an object to 
which he might devote himself. 

Out of every family that lived in the Bird Room 
he selected the one he preferred, and then lav- 
ished upon that one his love, and attentions that 
were often funny, but sometimes pathetic. The 
beloved object was always larger than himself, 
always unresponsive, and once really cross to him. 

I have told the story of his affection for a 
scarlet tanager, and his admiration of the antics 
of a blackbird. I will now tell of his devotion 
to a golden oriole. 

This oriole, who had come from Europe, was 
never anything in my house but a great, stupid, 
lumpish fellow. No doubt his experiences at the 
hands of man had soured him past cure, and he 
may have been intelligent enough in his native 
land, but he w T as not to be won by all the kind- 



74 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

ness that was lavished upon him. He flew into 
as mad a panic after six months of gentle treat- 
ment as he did on the first day. 

I saw no signs of intelligence, and I could not 
gain his confidence. A pining, unhappy cap- 
tive wrings my heart, but a stupid one repels 
me, and the name which seemed naturally to 
belong to this bird was " Goose." 

Not that anything was implied derogatory to 
the real goose, for I have great regard for that 
bird, and a genuine respect for her intelligence ; 
but the golden oriole was what we commonly 
call " a goose," that is, a little less than idiotic 
— not quite a downright fool. 

At first he refused to eat ; for a week I thought 
he would starve himself. Mockingbird food of 
the freshest was before him all the time, fruits 
of several kinds, lettuce, and everything I could 
think of to tempt his appetite, but not one thing 
would he even look at, excepting meal-worms. 
Of those wriggling creatures he would eat twenty 
in a day, perhaps more. Though I gave him as 
many as I dared, they did not satisfy him. 

At last, one day when I was out, he fell to eat- 
ing the bird food, emptied the dish in an hour, 
and after that I could hardly keep him supplied. 

His hunger appeased, he wanted nothing more, 
except a perch on which to sit crouched down 



THE GOLDEN GOOSE 75 

upon his toes all day. For the room and its 
inmates he eared not the least. 

A bird that shows no curiosity about a place 
so new to him as a room is usually of a low 
order of intelligence. There is nothing' so unin- 
teresting in a Bird Room, or out of it either, for 
that matter, as one who takes what comes and 
says nothing and shows no interest. 

I want my birds to talk and notice things. I 
may not always understand them, but since they 
have not learned u society manners/' they act 
out their feelings naturally, and close watching 
for a long time makes one expert in translating 
this language of expression. 

In spite of my efforts, I could not feel much 
interest in this stranger. He was a beauty, 
larger than a robin, and pure lemon in color all 
over. He had no tail, but I knew nature would 
supply one, and I waited. 

From the hour of the golden oriole's arrival 
in the room, the goldfinch was strongly attracted 
to him. As soon as he was placed in his new 
quarters the little bird went over, alighted on a 
perch close to his wires, and after a few moments' 
study of the stranger, began to talk to him in a 
low chatter. 

The " goose " paid no heed to him. Then 
the goldfinch went a step further and began to 



76 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

sing. It was quite different from his usual loud, 
careless song, being low and sweet, uttered with 
wings held slightly out and body turning from 
side to side, while his eyes were fixed upon the 
oriole. 

It was curious and peculiar, and not at all the 
way in which he had treated either of his former 
friends. 

The oriole could not help noticing this, and 
evidently did not know what to make of it. He 
became uneasy, and after fidgeting about on his 
perch he dropped to the floor, where he stood 
and stared blankly at his small serenader. Soon, 
however, he grew accustomed to the attentions 
and took them as a matter of course — as wiser 
folk will sometimes do. 



II 

From that day the goldfinch spent more than 
half his time before the shrine of his idol. He 
bathed in a hurry, and performed his toilet as 
quickly as he could, for he never dressed his 
feathers in the presence of the oriole. He took 
his meals in a sort of picnic style, going to his 
own cage for every seed, and returning to his 
usual seat to shell and eat it. 

What there was interesting about the big, 



THE GOLDEN GOOSE 77 

yellow bird who sat like a wooden image on the 
lowest perch close by the food dish, I could 
never guess ; but the goldfinch seemed to be 
naturally social, and pining for companionship. 

There was another one that I know of, who, 
while he was alone, allowed his plumage to get 
very rough, and took almost no care of himself ; 
but as soon as another bird was put into his 
cage, he fell at once to bathing and dressing his 
feathers, till he was in perfect order. Then he 
devoted himself to his new friend with eager- 
ness. 

A funny scene took place between my gold- 
finch and another bird one summer. The stranger 
was an American goldfinch, in his fall dress of 
olive and black, who, for safe keeping till a cage 
was brought, was put into the private apartment 
of my bird, and the door shut. 

The cage owner received his visitor hospitably, 
chatted with him, allowed him to enjoy the 
comforts of the cage, the seed and water, and 
even his choice and limited dainty — the hemp 
seed scattered over the gravel. 

All day long this amiable state of things 
lasted, but when bedtime came, there was a 
change. The guest wished to retire, of course, 
and also, of course, DO place would do but the 
top perch. 



78 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

At this point, however, his host drew the 
line. He could share his food and water, his 
cage, and even his beloved hemp seed, but to 
allow a stranger upon his private sleeping-perch 
was too much. He turned suddenly so savage 
that the poor little newcomer was obliged to 
retreat. 

To sleep on a low perch with any one else 
higher is repugnant to the very soul of a bird. 
The stranger plucked up spirit, and a struggle 
took place. Indeed, to restore peace the Amer- 
ican had finally to be removed. 

No such trouble arose with the golden oriole ; 
he did not care where anybody slept, but it was 
soon plain that he was not exempt from the com- 
mon lot ; he had his own sore trial. He had 
determined not to allow his tail to grow, for 
what reason I cannot imagine. The instant a 
tiny quill showed itself, with its lovely yellow 
feather folded inside, the bearer went to work to 
remove it. It was hard work, but he twisted 
himself almost into a knot, and pulled and 
tugged till he got it out, and then — utterly 
exhausted — laid his head back on its feather 
pillow and took a nap. 

I gave him meat according to bird-book direc- 
tions ; I changed his food ; I did all I could 
think of, but he kept up this bad habit all winter, 



THE GOLDEN GOOSE 79 

and I began to fear we should never see him 
with a tail. 

We never did, in fact, although as spring 
came on nature roused herself for a grand effort, 
and sent out five or six feathers at once. Now, 
I thought, the stupid fellow will be discouraged, 
and the tail will grow. 

He was discouraged. After hours of the 
hardest labor he gave it up — but he gave up 
his life, too. Since he could not have his will, 
he seemed to lose what little interest he had 
in life, and one day he went to sleep never to 
wake. 

No one grieved except the goldfinch, for the 
bird was so unhappy no one could wish to have 
him live. The little bird hung around the cage 
for a while quite dazed by his loss, and evidently 
expecting, or at least hoping, some morning to 
see again his dearly beloved golden goose. 



THE SAUCY ORIOLE 

I 

The Baltimore oriole is so gorgeous in dress, 
so charming of voice, and so strongly individual 
in his ways, that his modest little spouse slips 
through life by his side almost unnoticed. Yet 
she is a not unworthy mate ; her dress, though 
subdued, is more pleasing than his, her individ- 
uality is quite as marked, and she, too, can sing. 

A pair of orioles that spent one winter in my 
Bird Room were very entertaining, and the little 
madam was the most saucy creature I ever saw 
in feathers. She was a ridiculous object as to 
plumage, being featherless on the head and with- 
out a sign of a tail ; but never was an oriole 
long depressed by a little matter of that kind ; 
she was just as self-possessed and as dignified as 
if she had been the queen of the whole feathered 
world. 

Her first effort in my room was to establish 
her right to a bath whenever and wherever she 
chose to take it. The very first morning, while 
the older residents were bathing, and every bath- 



THE SAUCY ORIOLE 81 

tub was occupied, she made up her mind to go 
in. Nothing- daunted by size, she picked out 
the biggest bird in the room to dispossess. It 
was a blue jay, whose bathing-dish was on the 
floor. 

A droll figure she made when she went down 
to drive him out. She was not a quarter his 
size, and looked — without a tail — about as big 
as a wren. She alighted on the edge of his dish ; 
but when the big fellow stopped splashing and 
stood up in the water, looking quite able to eat 
her, his warlike crest rising and his large eyes 
fixed upon the intruder, she did not quite dare to 
insist. 

Her next choice was more fortunate. She went 
to the table where a Brazilian cardinal, consider- 
ably bigger than herself, was bathing, drove him 
away, and stepped into the water herself. 

She began her bath like any other bird, by 
thrusting her head in the water, but after one dip 
she lifted it high and flapped her wings vigor- 
ously, getting so wet that when she attempted to 
fly up to her cage, she fell to the floor instead. 
That did not disturb her, for she knew very well 
the use of a ladder that ran up to the cages for 
the benefit of disabled birds, and she delighted 
to hop up and down its rounds. 

While the oriole was herself almost a stranger, 



82 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

an American robin came to live in the room. 
He looked so big among orioles and tanagers and 
bluebirds, that nearly every one gave him a wide 
berth. 

Not so did my saucy little oriole. When he 
came out of his cage and took refuge on the top 
of it, while he looked about to see what sort of 
a place he had got into, madam flew over and 
alighted beside him. 

In robin fashion of showing hostility he hopped 
six inches into the air, then turned his beak 
toward her and ran at her. She met him with 
open mouth, daring him to come on. At three 
inches' distance he stopped and snapped his big 
beak. She bowed, which was her way of show- 
ing fight, perked up the tail-coverts in lieu of a 
tail, and did not budge an inch. Two or three 
times the robin ran at her, and every time her 
significant bows and determined air warned him 
off, till at last he left the cage altogether. 

The next day, during a domestic breeze, — for 
matters were not yet harmoniously settled at 
home, — her cage-mate chased the little oriole and 
she took refuge in the robin's cage. The owner 
was at home, and disconcerted by the sudden call, 
gave a cry and flew out. In a moment he re- 
gretted his hasty action, and came back to his 
own roof, whence madam quickly drove him by 







BALTIMORE ORIOLE 



THE SAUCY ORIOLE 83 

pecking his toes. He then dropped to his door- 
perch, and went into the cage. 

The intruder sat calmly on the perch, utterly 
unconcerned at his presence. He hopped about 
uneasily, went to the middle perch, glanced above 
at her, then jumped down, all the time uttering a 
low cry. Several times he thrust his head out of 
the door as if to go, then drew back, apparently 
thinking it cowardly to desert his own quarters. 
But after half a dozen feints he did go, leaving 
her in possession. 

II 

A female Virginia cardinal, with a strong will 
of her own, was the next bird that the saucy 
oriole molested. When the impertinent visitor 
alighted beside her in her own cage, the cardinal 
drew herself up very straight, raised her crest, 
and opened her big beak. The interloper bowed 
and snatched at her, plainly trying to seize her 
tongue, and once she did catch the lower man- 
dible. 

For a moment the Virginian evidently hesi- 
tated as to the manner of meeting this sort of 
insult. She shut her mouth, and drew herself 
up again with dignity, but soon afterward she 
flew across the room. 

Elated by her success with his mate, the oriole 



84 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

next tried her tactics on the cardinal himself, a 
serious-minded personage, who never descended 
to personalities with any one — except his spouse. 

She cornered him upon a perch, followed him 
along, as he moved off to avoid her, till he could 
go no farther, and then, as he opened his mouth 
at her, she snatched at his tongue. 

He shut his beak, and she gave him a sharp 
peck in the side. He was furious ; his crest stood 
up, his wings quivered, but he did not touch her, 
nor would he fly. Another time she relieved the 
scarlet tanager of a meal-worm he was preparing 
to eat by coolly snatching it out of his mouth. 

Never were birds so curious and interested in 
their surroundings as the two orioles. They 
investigated every corner of the room, lifted 
papers to peep under them, pulled towels about 
to see what was hidden by them, pried open 
books, crept between the slats of a blind, went all 
over their neighbors' cages on the outside, climb- 
ing on the wires and pulling out apple or other 
fruit and dropping it to the floor. 

They were always fond of climbing, and hang- 
ing head down was a favorite attitude. 

They liked also to use their sharp beaks ; if 
one of them could get one toe into a torn place 
in the wall-paper, he — or she — would hang on 
and pick holes in it. 



THE SAUCY ORIOLE 85 

Giving up a thing he has set his heart on never 
occurs to an oriole. One of mine took it into 
his naughty head to occupy his neighbor's wire 
apartment. I drove him out ; I caught him in 
my hand and took him out; I removed food and 
water, and still he would come back. 

When he saw that I noticed his flying to the 
door-perch, and was instantly ready to scare him 
off, he tried another way of approach. He 
climbed around on the wires from the back, and 
tried to steal in so quietly that I would not notice 
him — as I could tell by his glances at me. I 
drove him off, and then he tried another way. 
He came quietly up the ladder, looked over at 
me, and then slipped silently through the door. 

I had a fine chance to learn the unconquerable 
persistence of the oriole, for till the day of his 
liberation he never gave up trying to occupy his 
neighbor's house. 

When spring came and the Baltimore began 
to sing, and when his little cage-mate had been 
made beautif id by a complete suit of feathers and 
a tail as long as his own, they went their way 
into the big world outside the windows, and 
I saw no more of my charming but saucy little 
oriole. 



ANTICS IN THE BIRD EOOM 

Birds have many queer ways when one can 
watch them closely, as I could in my Bird Room. 
In taking exercise, for example, no two do it in 
the same way. 

The Brazilian cardinal turned perfect summer- 
sets. Standing on one end of his cage roof, he 
would suddenly spring into the air as if he were 
going through the ceiling. Just before touching 
it, he would turn completely over, so that for one 
instant his feet were toward the wall and his back 
toward the floor. At this point his wings were 
flat against his sides, and his body curved so that 
his head and tail pointed toward the floor. Then, 
without opening the wings, he passed down again, 
turning as he went, and alighted right side up at 
the other end of his cage. 

This prank was played so rapidly that I could 
not follow it perfectly with my eyes, all through, 
and to see how he held himself at the point where 
he turned, I had to fix my eyes on that point and 
not try to follow his flight up and back. 

This particular antic delighted the cardinal 



-i ^Hfl 












^fe. Bl 








^B^\ «i 






i ^s. 








^Vn 




1 
^2 J 


j^y < 








♦#* 


^fc / ^j^« - Jr 




JLi 


^&r*« ^^w s. 


^ 



CARDIN \I, 



ANTICS IN THE BIRD ROOM 87 

so much that he often kept it up an hour at a 
time. 

Another bird I had, danced. This was a sky- 
lark. He would come out only when his cage 
was put on the floor, and then he went around 
the edge of the room half flying, half running, 
taking mincing little steps, and waving his wings 
at the same time. It was a graceful, fairy-like 
dance. 

Still another inmate of the Bird Room used to 
fly across the room from one side to the other 
and plant his two feet squarely against the wall 
on each side. He did it very swiftly, and did 
not pause a second, but he did it with so much 
force that it sounded like a knock. 

Sometimes a bird will prefer to exercise in his 
cage, and then he flies madly around his perches, 
over and under and behind and around them, 
hardly touching them with the tips of his toes, 
and looking every minute as if he w r ould bang 
himself against the wires, but he never does. 
Most birds simply fly about the room with more 
or less fury. 



BLIZZARD 

Blizzard we named her ; not because that 
rough, unpleasant name particularly well suited 
the demure little damsel in dusty brown who 
came to live with us, but for the reason that she 
came in with the blizzard that tossed and tumbled, 
and half buried New York, on that famous Mon- 
day of March, claiming our hospitalities against 
the inhospitable world of wind and snow outside. 
How she got into the house is still a mystery. 
Mamma thought she must have come down the 
chimney and through the stovepipe, but it is 
hard to believe that a bird, however distressed, 
would venture into a long, dark tunnel like that, 
not knowing where it might end. 

It seems more likely that when some one opened 
a door to go out, and was met by a wild sweep 
of the gale, and a dash of fine, sharp snow in 
his face, that half blinded him, poor little Bliz- 
zard flew in with it ; perhaps because she saw 
warmth and comfort inside, or possibly just 
because she was blown in and could not help her- 
self. 



BLIZZARD 89 

However it came about, there she was, bright 
and pert as a sparrow can be, and plainly de- 
lighted to get out o£ the storm. She rebelled at 
being caught, and even bit savagely at her cap- 
tor, but in spite of that she was taken upstairs 
to a warm, snug room and set free, where we 
thought she would be safe, for Blizzard was not 
the only guest in the house. 

There was first, Elizabeth, the cat, who liked 
nothing better than tender young sparrow for 
breakfast, and knew well how to get it, too ; and 
Napoleon, the dog, who made it his particular 
duty to guard the household from all four-footed 
and feathered enemies; and worse, — for those 
two could be shut out of the room, — there was 
Laura. 

Laura was a parrot of high degree and beauti- 
ful manners, dressed in several shades of green, 
with a gay yellow cap, and a dash of rose-color 
on her wing. She did not at all know what to 
think of this vagabond of the street, whose vul- 
gar antics she was accustomed to watch through 
the windows only. She turned her aristocratic 
head on one side, fixed one large red eye on the 
plebeian, and plainly did not altogether approve 
of her for a companion. 

But Blizzard had no scruples ; she was not in 
the least afraid of her high-mightiness ; in fact, 



90 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

she never saw the bird she was afraid of, and she 
assumed the aggressive herself. 

For some moments the two stared at each other, 
head feathers erected and all bristled up for war ; 
then suddenly, with a keen appreciation of the 
advantage of taking the initiative, the sparrow 
made a dash at Laura, and passed just over her 
head without pausing. 

That insulted bird started, and gave a violent 
snap of her big beak, just too late to touch her 
lively enemy. Again and again was this perform- 
ance repeated, the saucy street ruffian swooping 
down as if to annihilate the stately parrot, and 
that bird every time surprised out of her dignity, 
startled, snapping her bill, trying to seize her 
tormentor. 

At length Blizzard tired of this amusement, 
and proceeded to show contempt of her room- 
mate in a new way, by alighting on the perch 
beside her. The perch was three or four feet 
long, and the size of a broomstick. 

Laura, sitting calm and composed at one end, 
was suddenly shocked by the sparrow dropping 
down upon it about four inches from her seat. 
In a moment, after one look of horror and disgust, 
down went Laura's head, and off she started 
hand over hand, as parrots walk, beak wide open, 
to seize her disreputable foe. 



BLIZZARD 91 

The graceless upstart simply hopped back a 
step or two. Laura f ollowed, snapped again, and 
again the sparrow retreated. Thus they passed 
down the length of the perch, and when they 
reached the end, Blizzard hopped over the back 
of her clumsy pursuer, came down the other side, 
and led her back in the same impertinent way. 

There was one droll sort of dance that Laura 
indulged in that seemed to amuse, or at least to 
interest Blizzard, for while it was going on she 
stood still in her turn, and looked at every move- 
ment. The excitement was produced by scraping 
a crumpled newspaper over the matting. 

What it suggested to the parrot, no one could 
guess, but the instant it began she erected her 
feathers, spread her tail like a fan, expanded 
her wings, put her beak down and rubbed the 
upper edge of it along the floor, while she 
walked round and round, toeing in, and always 
ploughing the matting with her big bill. This 
curious movement she kept up without pause so 
long as the noise was continued. 

An eating-place was set up for the storm 
refugee on the window-sash, and bread and water 
provided for her comfort. The water she ac- 
cepted with thanks, but she soon discovered that 
Laura's now vacant cage contained a dainty more 
to her taste — a large, square cracker. This she 



92 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

pecked at eagerly, first standing outside and 
putting her head between the wires ; but finding 
this inconvenient, after looking about on every 
side, and scorning the open door as a probable 
trap, she slipped between the wires and helped 
herself freely, hammering the cracker to bits and 
scattering crumbs all over the floor, while the 
owner of the cage observed with displeasure the 
disorderly manners of her small neighbor. 



II 

After enduring the sparrow's performances 
awhile, Laura went home, and the door was shut. 

We were sure she could guard her food, for 
she was a bird of spirit herself, and not used to 
being imposed upon. To the ladies of the family 
she was very gracious, readily accepting a finger 
for a perch, and kissing and behaving in a charm- 
ing manner, but I regret to say that to the gen- 
tlemen she was very different. 

Whether she had been teased till her temper 
was soured toward the sex, no one knew, but from 
the smallest boy to the biggest man she detested 
the whole race. 

On the approach of the son of the household, 
aged six, she invariably seized the edge of her 
seed dish, and shook it so violently that seeds 



BLIZZARD 93 

were scattered all over the floor ; if his hand came 
near, she bit it, and sometimes she flew at his 
face, screaming and chattering with fury. 

Blizzard did not approve of the new arrange- 
ment, but cracker she was bound to have ; and 
after a few cautious advances, holding herself 
ready for instant flight, she grew careless, and 
plainly made up her mind that Laura was far too 
slow to catch so very wide-awake a personage as 
herself. 

So once more she slipped through, and busied 
herself on the floor within six inches of her big 
neighbor, getting even so bold as to snatch at 
Laura's tail when it hung in her way. 

For some time the parrot looked on, with wise 
head turned over one side, and Blizzard became 
perfectly indifferent, when at last the long-suffer- 
ing bird leaned over and snatched up the intrud- 
ing scapegrace by the back. 

Had it been the head, this would be the end 
of the poor sparrow's story, but the feathers are 
thick on the back. Blizzard screamed at the top 
of her voice, the family ran into the room, and 
the bird escaped, leaving a mouthful of feathers 
with Laura. 

This experience subdued the street gamin for 
a while, and she retired to the top of the window- 
casing to recover from her fright and investigate 



94 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

the damage to her draperies, while Laura sat 
bridling in her cage, saying " Cr-r-r — cr-r-r " in 
a low but evidently crowing tone, as if meaning, 
" There, miss ! how do you like that ? Perhaps 
you '11 keep out of my house ! " 

As it began to grow dark, Blizzard prepared 
for the night, and in the way one might expect 
from a sparrow. There was no elaborate dress- 
ing of plumage, removing of the day's dust, and 
drawing each soft feather in place for the night ; 
she simply laid in an extra supply of provisions 
— fairly stuffed herself, till we were alarmed. 

Perhaps, poor thing, it was not from greedi- 
ness, but because she had a dim feeling that 
this unusual warmth and abundance might be a 
dream, and that she should wake up to find every- 
thing covered with snow and no food to be had, 
and so it was the part of wisdom to fill herself 
while it lasted ; plenty of wisdom of a certain 
sort abode in that small, brown head. 

Whatever the reason, she did eat an enormous 
supper, and then retired to the place she had first 
selected as her private retreat — on top of the 
window frame. 

There she composed herself, and nothing was 
heard from her till morning ; but alas, we forgot 
the early-rising habits of the sparrow's family. 
Laura, used to life in a house, never stirred 3, 



BLIZZARD 95 

feather till other people got up, but this street 
vagrant began with the first streak of light to fly 
around the room, to ask for breakfast, to stir up 
Laura, and to disturb things generally. In fact, 
she made herself so disagreeable that it was 
resolved to turn her out to care for herself. 

Meanwhile the snow and wind had been hav- 
ing it all their own way out of doors. Great 
drifts were piled up against the windows, the 
sidewalks were lost, and even the street looked 
like mountain-chains on a small scale. 

No one thought of going out of the house, for 
the first step from the door plunged one into a 
snowdrift over his head. Nothing could be done 
toward clearing it away till the snow stopped fall- 
ing, or the frolicsome wind ceased playing tricks 
with it, and building a wild country up in the 
middle of the city. So no one went out, horses 
stood in their stables, and not a sparrow showed 
a feather outside. 

This day Blizzard was fuller of pranks than 
ever, and there was not a bit of mischief that 
little brain could contrive that failed to be done. 

The last of her tricks, which almost had a sad 
ending for herself and us, was to set the house 
on fire. Actually, with engines snowed into their 
houses, streets filled with mountains of loose, dry 
snow, and hydrants all out of sight under them, 



96 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

that incorrigible rascal picked a match from the 
matchsaf e, carried it off under the bed, and prob- 
ably pounded the end to see if the little brown 
knob was good to eat. 

However she did it, she flew up suddenly, and 
in a moment there was an odor of burning. 
Fortunately some one was in the room, or we 
should no doubt in a few minutes have been all 
afire, for there in the crack between the breadths 
of matting the match was brightly burning. The 
matting itself was already afire, and a nice little 
bonfire would have carried us all off in smoke, if 
no one had been there to put it out. 

That settled Miss Blizzard's fate, and as soon 
as the sun came out, a window was opened, and 
away she went out into the white world to join 
the army of feathered tramps to which she be- 
longed. 



THREE SPARROWS THAT LIVE IN A 
HOUSE 

I 

I know a house in Brooklyn which is a sort 
of bird's hospital, where are living more birds 
than people, and where all wounded and suffer- 
ing feathered creatures find shelter and comfort. 

While I am writing this story, there are, 
among the other birds, three English sparrows, 
street birds that had been hurt, and rescued from 
cats and cruel boys, and taken care of till they 
were well. 

One of these birds is sentimental. He wants 
to be coddled all the time. He is so grateful 
for his comfortable home that he is unhappy if 
he cannot be with one of the family who have 
been so kind to him. 

Most tame birds are satisfied if they can perch 
on a shoulder or arm of the person they like, 
but not so this sparrow. He wants to be held 
in a warm hand, or snuggled up within the arm, 
and he is so determined to get into his favorite 
place that when the family want to do something 



98 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

besides hold a bird, they have to roll him up in 
a shawl and lay him in a snug corner of bed or 
chair. 

The thing he likes best of all is to be taken into 
bed, and he cannot fly to go there himself. So 
in the early morning, long before any one, except 
a bird, wants to get up or even to be wakened, 
he will begin his loud squawks, and never stop 
till one of his kind mistresses gets up, takes him 
in her hand, and holds him shut up in it under 
her cheek. There he is happy and still, and she 
can sleep as long as she likes. Did ever a bird 
have so droll a sleeping-place ? 

The second queer sparrow was almost dead 
when brought in from the street. He recovered 
his health entirely, but he, too, can never fly, so 
he is obliged to live in a house. This bird is 
not sentimental — far from it ! he is very fond 
of eating, perhaps even a little greedy. And 
besides being fond of his dinner, he seems to like 
a joke. 

He always insists on going to meals, for he 
understands the dinner-bell as well as any one. 
He squawks and calls and makes a commotion till 
he is carried to the table and set down upon it. 
Then he runs about, tastes everything, makes up 
his mind what he likes best, and eats as much 
as he wants of it. 




ENGLISH SPARROW 



THREE SPARROWS IN A HOUSE 99 

He is fond of a joke, as I said, and he shows it 
in this way: the thing he likes best to eat is butter, 
and after taking a bit, he always wants to wipe 
his beak, as birds do. The place he chooses to 
use for this purpose is the coat-sleeve of the head 
of the family. Grease spots on the coat-sleeve 
are too much for the most amiable man to endure, 
so the bird was early made to understand he must 
not do it, but must use the tablecloth or the 
edge of a dish. 

The clever bird knew what was meant, for this 
family talk so much to their pets that they learn 
to understand a great deal. They seem to know 
perfectly well what is said to them, and what they 
must not do. The English sparrow is one of 
the sharpest witted of birds, and he plainly under- 
stood — as his manner showed — that he must 
not use a coat-sleeve for a napkin. 

But English sparrows have no notion of giv- 
ing up anything they like, and this one is not 
only obstinate like his fellows, but has a spice 
of mischief besides. So now, while taking his 
meals as usual with the family, he slyly watches 
his chance. When the coat-wearer is particularly 
busy and has forgotten for a moment to be on 
guard, the saucy bird will thrust his beak into 
the butter, hop silently but quickly to the cov- 
eted sleeve, wipe the beak, and dash away before 

LofC. 



100 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

he can be touched, and then perhaps chuckle 
over the joke the rest of the day. 



II 

The third sparrow living in this house is, how- 
ever, the most astonishing one. In this protected 
home, where food and drink never fail and no 
work is needed to secure them, where street fun 
and street dangers and domestic affairs and all 
other sources of work or play are denied him, he 
has turned his active mind to the improvement 
of his talents, and with two canaries for com- 
panions, has learned their song. 

I spent some hours in the house one day for 
the purpose of hearing this wonderful thing — 
an English sparrow singing like a canary. He was 
shy about showing off, but I kept very quiet in 
the other parlor while his mistress coaxed him 
with talk and piano music to sing. Before long, 
finding himself unable to resist, he dropped the 
ordinary street squawks, with which he had been 
regaling us, long enough to sing several times. 
He poured out with great freedom all the 
warbles and quavers of the canary song, includ- 
ing a remarkable trill, and he did it better 
than the canaries who taught him, because his 
natural voice is better than theirs, being richer 



THREE SPARROWS IN A HOUSE 101 

and fuller, and not so shrill. One who heard 
him without seeing him would never think of 
the singer being anything but an unusually fine 
singer of the canary family. 

Think of it ! a common wild English sparrow, 
saved from a violent death in March, and by 
October singing a fellow captive's song better 
than he can sing it himself. Perhaps this accom- 
plished bird, if sent out into the streets as a mis- 
sionary, might teach the others to do the same. 
We could forgive the English sparrows a good 
deal if they would fill our streets with song. 

When at last I had to leave the house, I went 
into the back parlor where the bird lives, with- 
out canaries at present, in a cage among house 
plants in a sunny window, and looked at him. 
Plenty of food and water, and no struggle for 
life in the dust of the street, have given his coat 
rich and pure coloring, so that he is really as 
beautiful as it is possible for one of his tribe to be. 
Nothing less than seeing him could convince me 
that the fine song I had heard could have come 
from a common English sparrow. 



DOCTOR DOT 

I 

Dot was the roundest, the funniest, and the 
wisest chicken that ever lived in a house, and 
she never was in the least afraid of anybody. 
For a while after she was adopted into the family 
she ate only bread and milk, and then varied 
this baby food with crumbs from the table, with 
now and then a fly which was careless enough 
to alight near her. 

She delighted to be on the table when the 
family were eating. She would run from one to 
another, cocking her wise little head on one side, 
and accepting a crumb of bread or a bit of 
potato from each one. But as she grew bigger, 
and made experiments for herself, such as taking 
a nip of the butter, hopping up on to the platter 
and getting her feet into the gravy, a law had to 
be made that Miss Dot must take her meals 
alone. 

Her greatest treat in these early days was to be 
put up on the window frame, in the middle where 
the two sashes meet, there to hunt flies, which 



DOCTOR DOT 103 

delight in that spot. She would run after a fly- 
as eagerly as any of her cousins on the ground, 
and would often be so heedless as to fall off, so 
that Ella, her little mistress, had to stand by her 
while on that dangerous elevation, lest she should 
fall and break her neck. 

As she grew bigger, Ella decided that although 
Dot was very well for a pet name, it was hardly 
dignified enough for so important a personage 
as she had become. After much thought it 
was enlarged into Dorothea Daniel Davidson, the 
latter after the uncle who presented her to Ella. 
She was usually called Dot, or D. D., or Doctor 
(which D. D. stands for, you know), and at last, 
in this way, the name Doctor Dot became pretty 
well fastened upon her. It was rather a queer 
name, to be sure, but Dorothea did not care; she 
would answer to any one of the whole list. 

It might have been rather lonely for one poor 
little chick in a house full of big people, but she 
was not alone ; she had one special playmate, 
Mother Bunch, and plenty of neighbors besides. 
The most important of these was Abercrombie 
Fitz Plantagenet, the cat, who lived in a basket 
that hung from the gas fixture, and was never 
so happy as when her basket was set spinning by 
some kind hand. 

One would think this performance would have 



104 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

muddled her brains and made her a dizzy, topsy- 
turvy good-for-nothing, but so far from that 
she was one of the wisest and most clear-headed 
of her race, as you might know from her name. 
When not spinning around in her airy residence, 
she would sit for hours on a chair by the window, 
looking at the passers, and evidently closely 
studying human nature. Should no chair be 
properly placed, or should the blinds be closed, 
this wise cat — Cromie, as she was called for 
"everyday " — would cry and mew, and pull some 
one's dress, until the difficulty was remedied, when 
she would take her seat with dignity and resume 
her studies. 

Very different from this stately dame was her 
baby, the only one which survived a sudden 
catastrophe in her last family, and was named 
Mother Bunch because she was such a funny 
bunch of a thing. 

From the first, Mother Bunch and the Doctor 
were the best of friends ; they played together 
like two kittens. They would roll over and 
over and run after one another ; the kitten would 
slap and the chicken would nip. The Doctor 
seemed determined to do everything that Mother 
Bunch did, and in fact I think she was rather 
ambitious to be a kitten herself. 

When they were in the yard together, she 



DOCTOR DOT 105 

would play with a bit of hanging clothes-line 
as the kitten did, taking it in her mouth and 
running around the post ; and she made fran- 
tic efforts to climb the clothes-post after Mother 
Bunch. 

At first the Doctor would run from a rat or a 
cat, but as they grew older and Mother Bunch 
became blind, she seemed to know she was the 
protector. A strange cat could no more than 
show its head in the yard before Doctor Dot 
flew at it with her mouth open, screaming as an 
angry hen will. The intruder always quickly 
decided to retire to a more quiet neighborhood. 

Mother Bunch's favorite napping-place was 
between the blinds and the window, and if she 
found it closed, she would cry and tease till it 
was opened for her. Dorothea always took her 
place on pussy's back during the sleep, partly 
perhaps to protect her, but a little to indulge in 
a nap herself. 

She was fond of playing with children as she 
saw the kitten doing. She would run after them 
and snatch at their clothes, and once she drove 
a little boy into a corner, and frightened him 
half out of his wits by jumping at him as if she 
would eat him up. 

Doctor Dot always seemed to think the small 
flower-bed in the yard was made for her amuse- 



106 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

ment. No sooner would a tiny plant show its 
head above the ground than she would pull it up, 
apparently for fun, or to see what it was doing 
there, and she would scratch up the earth around 
it to see if there were any more impertinent 
little leaves around. The air with which she did 
this was so comical that Ella could n't feel very 
sorry about the flowers. 



n 

As time went on, it looked very funny to see 
a hen about the house, though she was such a 
small one, but she refused to be sent out of 
the house to live. If she found the door shut 
against her, she would get on to a window-sill 
and peep and cry to be let in, till some kind 
heart inside took pity and opened the way for 
her. 

All babies grow up, and now Dot was no 
longer a chicken, but a full-grown bantam hen, 
and her frolics with Mother Bunch were at an 
end. New notions came into her head ; she 
began to think it was high time she had a 
nest like other hens. She grew uneasy, clucked 
around like any old feathered matron, and teased 
Ella till she fixed a box with a nice nest for her, 
and into that Dot retired and laid her first egg. 



DOCTOR DOT 107 

Such a cackling and clucking over one small 
egg was never heard. So important and fussy 
was Madam Dorothea that it was almost impos- 
sible to live with her. Egg after e^ was laid 
in that nest till she had enough to suit her ideas 
of a family, and then she took to setting, in 
regular poultry-yard fashion. When at last she 
came off with ten chicks, the proudest mother in 
the world, another decree went forth, that now 
indeed Dorothea Daniel Davidson must live in a 
house of her own in the yard. 

So under a large pear-tree, in a pretty low- 
roofed cottage with a lattice front, now went to 
live Doctor Dot and her babies ten. She was so 
much engrossed with her cares, so concerned for 
the safety of those ten little feathery balls on 
legs, that she never seemed to regret her change 
of home. When the chicks grew too big to 
sleep under their mother's wings, a larger house 
was built, with perches and a door, and in that 
the family were nicely accommodated. 

One more cunning thing Dot did before she 
settled down into the life of a common hen. 
One night the coop door blew shut and she and 
her family could not get in. It was cold, and 
she longed for her comfortable roost inside, so 
she came to the house for help. The door was 
shut, but she flew up to the old window and 



108 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

tapped on the glass with her bill. Some of the 
family, not seeing very well, were frightened a 
little, but Ella knew her at once. 

"Why, it's Dot!" she said. 

She opened the window to let her in, but that 
was not what Dot wanted. She pulled Ella's 
dress and tried to draw her to the door. 

" Perhaps she wants help," suggested one, and 
Ella started out to see. She opened the door, 
and Dot ran on ahead eagerly. Ella followed, 
and she led directly to the shut-up coop, where 
the whole bantam family were collected. No 
sooner was the door opened than they all hurried 
in, and in a few minutes were snugly asleep for 
the night. 



BIRDS OUT OF DOORS 



MY FIRST BIRD 

Many years ago, when I was a schoolgirl, I 
lived in an old-fashioned house away back from 
the street, in the outskirts of a Western city. It 
was before the English sparrows had come to 
drive other birds away, and our own native birds 
used to live in town with us. Vireos sang from 
morning till night in the trees that shaded the 
streets ; Baltimore orioles swung their beautiful 
cradles from the tall boughs of the elms; and 
robins ran over the lawns without danger of hav- 
ing their hard-got worms snatched out of their 
mouths by the impudent foreign sparrows, as 
they are now. 

I knew nothing about birds, and was absorbed 
in schoolbooks and music lessons and all school- 
day interests, but the first spring that we lived 
in the old-fashioned place, one bird forced him- 
self upon my attention, and he was the first I 
ever noticed. 

The grounds around the house were very large, 
and halfway down to the front fence was an old 
rustic arbor that was seldom visited. In or 



112 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

about that arbor somewhere, dwelt a bird with 
his family, and every evening and half the night, 
as it seems to me now, he sang to us. As soon 
as it grew too dark to see plainly, the song began, 
" Whip-poor-will ! Whip-poor-will ! Whip-poor- 
will !" 

Because it was too late to see to read, I used 
to sit on the steps and listen, and think it the 
loneliest bird song I ever heard, but I never saw 
the singer. Though, as I have said, it was in 
the edge of a city, with houses all around, so 
common were birds about us then that no one 
thought of disturbing him. It being also be- 
fore the days when every boy thinks he must 
have a " collection," no one tried to find the 
nest, though there were three boys in the house 
with me, and several more next door. 

One evening after the whip-poor-will had sung 
for some weeks, I was surprised to hear a droll 
baby voice trying to imitate his notes. 

On listening, I found that the elder was teach- 
ing the youngster — actually giving him a music 
lesson. First the perfect song rang out loud 
and clear, and the weak quavering voice tried 
to copy it. Then the singer repeated the strain, 
and the infant tried again. So it went on night 
after night till the little one could sing almost 
as well as his father. 




Willi' POOR-WILL 



MY FIRST BIRD 113 

That was my first bit of bird study, though 
I could never see the singer, did not even know 
how he looked, and had nobody to tell me where 
to find out ; besides being always so absorbed in 
books, which I loved almost more than anything 
in the world, that I did* not try much. But I 
never forgot the baby whip-poor-will's music les- 
sons, and have always counted him the first bird 
I ever knew. 

The reason I failed to see the whip-poor-will, 
though I stole down to the arbor so softly, was 
because he could see in the dark so much bet- 
ter than I could ; and when he saw me coming, 
he slipped off his perch and flew away so silently 
with his soft plumage that I did not hear him. 
And the reason I could never find the nest was 
because the mother bird, the eggs, and the little 
ones were so nearly the color of the ground 
where they lay that I might almost have stepped 
on them without seeing them. 

The whip-poor-will is about the length of a 
robin, but much stouter. His dress is gray and 
black and brown and white, very much mixed 
up. His mate is a little more brown than he, 
and she makes no nest, but lays her two eggs 
on the ground, or a bed of dead leaves, and 
brings up her twin babies in the same cheerless 
place. Droll little birdlings they are, too, in 



114 TEUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

suits of soft down so nearly the color of the 
ground that when they cuddle down and keep 
still, as I have said, it is almost impossible to see 
them. 



THE THRUSHES WHO LIVED IN THE 
CITY 

In a city I know is a yard which is made safe 
for birds by having a high, tight board fence, 
with the top fixed so that cats cannot walk on it. 

The top of fences in the city — as you proba- 
bly know — is the common parade ground of the 
cats who have no other place for walking out, 
where they can look into the yards and decide 
where they want to go down. It is right they 
should have some place for exercise, for when 
cats and dogs are shut up in cities they should 
be made as comfortable as possible. 

The family I am telling you about are very 
fond of birds, and they hoped, when the birds 
passed over in the spring, to coax some of them 
to stay, by making a safe place for them ; so, 
as I said, they fixed the fence to keep off the 
cats, and then set out shrubs and vines and other 
growing things in the yard, till it was a nice 
cosy place thai any bird might enjoy. To their 
delight a pail of wood thrushes concluded to 
spend the summer there, and soon a nest was 
built. 



116 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

Now cats are very clever little beasts, and 
though the fence highway was closed to them, 
they would sometimes get in through the gate 
or a door, or in some way. Then the birds were 
very much alarmed and uttered cries of distress. 
The family, hearing the cries, always rushed out 
to see what was the matter, and of course drove 
the cat away. 

In a very short time those intelligent birds 
learned that the people of the house would pro- 
tect them, and in a few days they began to call 
upon their human friends when in trouble. In- 
stead of just calling and crying where they hap- 
pened to be when a cat appeared, one of the 
thrushes would go to the back door and give a 
peculiar call, which was given at no other time. 
The people soon understood it, and some one 
would run out to drive away the enemy. If 
there happened to be no one in the kitchen, so 
that the birds could get no help on that side of 
the house, they would fly to the front piazza, 
perch on the rail, and call till some one came. 

The family were so pleased with the birds' 
confidence in them that they were very willing 
to run out to protect them whenever called. All 
summer long they held themselves ready to obey 
the calls, and a little family was safely reared, 
and all flew away for the winter. 




wood THRUSH 



THRUSHES WHO LIVED IN THE CITY 117 

Birds soon learn who are their friends, and 
become tame. Another pair o£ birds who were 
very friendly with a family were Virginia car- 
dinals or cardinal grosbeaks. These are very 
shy birds, and so afraid of people that they will 
desert a nest if any one touches it. This pair 
built in a rosebush on a trellis before a kitchen 
window, so low that the eleven-year-old son of 
the family could touch it ; he never did touch it, 
and the birds did not mind when he or any of 
the family looked at them as much as they liked. 

It was not because the birds were stupid or 
particularly confiding ; for when I went there 
and looked at them, though not very near, they 
were as wild as if they lived in the woods. They 
knew I was a stranger, and I could not tell them 
I was a bird lover, nor stay long enough to have 
them get acquainted with me. 



BARN SWALLOWS IN A FROLIC 

Barn swallows are busy little fellows, nearly 
always soaring around in the air over our heads, 
appearing not even to see us down on the earth 
below. 

I was greatly surprised one day to find a barn 
swallow having a frolic with a dog. I was pass- 
ing through a meadow on the side of a mountain 
in Massachusetts, to reach a grove where birds 
lived. The meadow was all in terraces or great 
steps, and looking down over them, I noticed 
the queer antics of a dog belonging to the farm- 
house where I was staying. First he would 
appear above the edge of a terrace in great 
haste, then suddenly disappear, and in a moment 
show his head at the other end of the grassy 
steps. 

What could be the matter ? I hurried down 
the meadow to the edge of the first fall of the 
land. There I saw the family pet, a beautiful 
shepherd dog, much excited, running back and 
forth on a rather narrow ledge below me. Now 
he rushed frantically along thirty or forty feet, 



BARN SWALLOWS IN A FROLIC 119 

with tail wagging as if in sport, then wheeled 
and ran back in the same eager way. Some- 
times he made a dash to the left and tore madly 
up the side of the mountain ; again he flung 
himself over the edge, going almost heels over 
head in his zeal. 

What could be the cause ? I could see no 
playmate ; his young master was mowing farther 
down the meadow. I thought of woodchucks, 
— his favorite game, — but though I looked 
carefully, not one of those wary creatures was to 
be seen ; moreover it is business and not play 
when dog and woodchuck meet. 

At last the dog leaped into the air, and my eye 
fell upon his playfellow — a barn swallow ! I 
could hardly believe my eyes, but I sat down on 
the bank and watched for some time the strange 
game. The dog would sit quietly at one end of 
the run till the swallow swooped down just over 
his head, and skimmed along at that height the 
length of the terrace. 

On the appearance of the bird the dog started 
at full speed after him, and when the swallow 
turned back the dog did the same. If the bird 
went up towards the barn, the dog scrambled up 
the steep bank after him ; if downward towards 
the lower meadow, his four-footed playmate fol- 
lowed. When the bird rose higher, the dog, 



120 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

as I said, sat down and waited. This they kept 
up a long time, and I looked on till the dog 
walked off, as if he had had enough of the fun. 

After that I kept close watch of swallows, and 
I found that they are very sharp to see what is 
going on below them, and that they like to play 
— even to play a joke. 

One day I had come in from the woods and 
was resting on the piazza, looking at the birds 
on the lawn. There were robins and song spar- 
rows running about in the grass, and a flock 
of swallows flying round and round overhead. 
All of these were busy catching small flies, and 
when one had a mouthful he flew off to the barn, 
w r here were four or five nests full of hungry 
young ones. 

While I was looking at them, suddenly one 
left the flock and swooped down at a robin who 
was hunting for his dinner on the ground. The 
swallow did not quite touch him, but he came so 
near that the robin dodged and then straight- 
ened up and cried " Tut ! tut ! tut ! " looking up 
at me as if to see if I had noticed how the swal- 
low had insulted him. 

A robin has a good deal of dignity, you know, 
and does not like to be made to dodge. He 
looked after the swallow, but it was of no use, 
for he had joined the others, and I don't suppose 



BARN SWALLOWS IN A FROLIC 121 

the robin could tell him from his brothers any 
more than I could. 

Another time the swallows were flying round 
in great circles over a meadow. The hay had 
just been taken away, and the owner turned his 
hens in to pick up the grasshoppers and other 
creatures left without any grass to hide in. 

The newcomers did not interfere in the least 
with the swallows, who get their food entirely 
from the air ; but no sooner did the busy, plod- 
ding hens begin to run about, than one or two 
swallows marked them for a little fun, and began 
swooping down at them, as the one I told you 
about had treated the robin. 

The birds did not actually touch the hens, 
but they scared them very much. A hen would 
dodge and cry out and run a little away, and 
then go to feeding again. The swallows seemed 
to think this great fun, for they kept it up till 
the poor hens were fairly driven out of the 
field. 

Sometimes it is no joke on the part of the 
swallows. I have seen a party of them drive 
away a cat who was prowling about, perhaps 
hoping to catch a bird to eat. This was a seri- 
ous matter. The birds would fly down and give 
her a sharp peck on the head or back, and be 
off so quickly that she could not touch them, 



122 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

though a cat is very quick herself. This they 
kept up till the cat would run and hide. 

Once I saw several of these birds in the same 
way drive away a kingfisher who was fishing 
from a half -sunken fence in a salt marsh on the 
seashore. I wondered why they disliked to have 
him there, but after he had gone I saw the rea- 
son : there were some baby swallows just out of 
the nest, and the parents wanted them to perch 
on the fence, where they could easily feed them. 
The kingfisher was in their way. 



HOW THE DOG INTERFERED 

All the tanagers that I have known have 
been rather shy birds. They do not like to have 
their nests seen by people, and for that reason I 
was very much pleased when I found one. 

I was walking along a little-used path in the 
woods with a friend — another bird lover — when 
we noticed that a beautiful bird in scarlet and 
black, a scarlet tanager, did not want us to go 
up that way. He went ahead of us from tree to 
tree, keeping an eye on us, calling all the time 
" Chip-chur ! Chip-chur ! " as if to put some 
one on guard. 

When we stopped a moment to see what the 
fuss was about, we saw his mate in her modest 
dress of yellowish green. She was sitting on a 
low branch saying " Chip-chur! " too, and it was 
plain she did not like our going up that path 
either. That made us think there must be a 
nest somewhere near, and looking sharply around, 
we both saw it. 

The nest was beautifully placed in a sort of 
arch made by a tall, slender sapling or young 



124 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

tree being bent over to the ground, probably by 
a heavy weight of snow, and held there till it 
grew so. It could not get up straight again to 
grow into a tree, so the twigs grew out the whole 
length of the slender trunk, making a beautiful 
arch, high enough for a child to walk under. 
At that time it was covered with fresh green 
leaves, and was one of the prettiest things in 
the woods. In the middle of this arch was the 
nest. 

The birds, finding that we were quiet, flew 
away at last, and we at once hid ourselves as 
well as we could, hoping they would not see us 
and would come back. There was a tangle of 
young trees where we were, tall enough to hide 
us, and we crept under them, covering our heads 
with branches of leaves so that our hats would 
not show. Then we sat down and waited for 
the birds to come back. 

Now we were not alone that morning. We 
had the big dog who always followed my friend, 
and we took him into the tangle with us. 

Pretty soon the tanagers appeared, the scarlet 
beauty perched high up on a tree, looking sharply 
around to see that no spectators were about, while 
his mate tried to get up her courage to go to 
the nest, which was not finished. Nearer and 
nearer she came, pausing and looking around 



HOW THE DOG INTERFERED 125 

and calling to her mate to make sure he was 
near. 

At last the shy bird was on the arch, and close 
to the nest, just about to take the last step and 
go in, and we hardly dared to breathe though 
mosquitoes nearly drove us wild, when suddenly 
there came a terrific report — the dog sneezed ! 

Like a flash, away went the tanagers. No 
doubt they thought something dreadful — an 
earthquake, perhaps — had happened, for they 
never came back to finish that nest. We went 
there many times, but never a tanager was to be 
seen. The next time they hid their nest so well 
that we never found it, and weeks afterward we 
saw them in another part of the woods feeding a 
nestling. 



UPPER AND LOWER STORY IN THE 
BIRD WORLD 

In a Western city where I spent part of a 
summer, I saw a curious thing among the birds. 
There were two kinds of birds living in the busi- 
ness streets, English sparrows and purple martins. 

Now these two birds are not very friendly, 
because they both want to live in bird houses and 
holes and such sheltered places. The martin has 
to go south in the winter to find food, and the 
English sparrow does not, for he finds his food 
anywhere. When the martins come back in 
the spring to their old homes, — martin houses, 
boxes, and such places, — they find the sparrows 
living in them, every one filled full. Then there 
is likely to be trouble and much fighting among 
the birds, for the English sparrows, when once 
they get in, are hard to get out. So the martins 
have been obliged to go to other places to nest. 

For that reason I was surprised to find both 
species living in that city, and no fighting be- 
tween them. The way they had settled it, as I 
soon saw, was by dividing the city between them ; 



UPPER AND LOWER STORY 127 

that is, living at different heights in the air, 
almost as well separated as the upper and lower 
stories of a house. 

The English sparrows lived in the lower story. 
They had their nests in vines on the houses, and 
over the doors and windows and such places, and 
they got their food and spent their time on the 
ground and low trees. They rarely flew higher 
than the trees and the telegraph wires. 

The purple martins lived in the upper story. 
They gathered their food of flying insects in the 
air, high up above the buildings, and alighted 
only on the tops of the tall business blocks and 
on the highest wires. I never saw one go lower. 
In that way each tribe of birds had its own level, 
and did not interfere with the other. 

The place the martins had selected for their 
homes was most curious and interesting. The 
business block about which I saw them had a 
flat roof, and the front brick wall ended in a 
square top. For ornament, or to protect the wall 
from rain, a terra-cotta covering, a half-cylinder 
in shape, was placed over this square top ; that is, 
as if a stove-pipe or a tile used for drains were 
cut in half for its whole length. This made a 
low sort of arch over the brick wall, which was 
open at the end. 

Under this arch, perhaps five or six inches in 



128 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

the highest part, the martins had made their 
nests. Here they were to be seen from morning 
till night, sitting in the doorway and going in 
and out, very much at home. Of course all 
of them had to go in at the same entrance, and 
there were a large number who seemed to live 
there. 

Whenever I looked out of my windows, I could 
see the beautiful dark blue martins circling about 
over the tall buildings and calling in their sweet 
voices, apparently unconscious of what was going 
on in the busy streets, and the sparrows chirp- 
ing and squawking down below in their noisy 
fashion. 

Purple martins are beautiful birds and are fond 
of living near people, but they will not build nests 
in trees like robins. They prefer comfortable 
martin houses; and in the spring, when they 
come north for the summer, if they find their 
houses occupied, they will not stay. Mrs. Celia 
Thaxter, who was very fond of birds, had a 
hundred martin houses put up on the island 
where she lived, and the birds liked them so well 
that the first year a hundred pairs of martins 
settled there for the season. 



THE LOST BABY 

Oke lovely June evening, a few years ago, I 
was walking on a lonely road away up in the 
Green Mountains, where they run nearly to the 
top of the map in the State of Vermont. 

I was engaged in my usual summer occupation 
of watching and studying birds, and my desire that 
evening was to hear the twilight hymn of a cer- 
tain hermit thrush who sang from the thick woods 
beside the road. For some reason the bird was not 
singing, and I wandered on and on, not liking 
to give him up, till it began to grow dark and I 
found myself much farther than usual from the 
farmhouse where I was staying. 

I was about turning to go back, when suddenly 
a strange, loud cry burst into the silence. It 
was unlike anything I had ever heard. No bird, 
I thought, could utter such a sound, and I did 
not care to meet any wild beast from the woods, 
especially as I had already heard very strange 
voices from that quarter. At that moment I 
noticed a robin perched on a tall post a little 
farther up the road, looking over with great inter- 



130 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

est at something on the ground, and when the cry 
was repeated, I saw that it came from that spot. 

The bird's evident curiosity aroused mine, and 
I determined to see what it was. Slowly I walked 
on towards it, the cries sounding louder, with a 
rustling among the weeds that showed me where 
the creature — whatever it was — was moving. 

As I came nearer, the hopping and thrashing 
about increased, and the weeds moved violently. 
I caught sight of a queer-looking creature, more 
like a big toad than anything I could think of, 
leaping or jumping along beside the road. 

I tried to take him in my hands, but he uttered 
louder and more frantic cries, and scrambled 
under a thick patch of low bushes that bordered 
the way. I followed, — not under, but over the 
bushes, — for now I began to think it might be 
a young bird. But as I parted the branches 
over him, he slipped farther on, till he passed 
through and came out into the open the other 
side. 

On coming near him, I heard from the woods 
a low, rapid tapping, which I thought was made 
by a woodpecker. And knowing that one of the 
largest of the family, whom I had never seen, 
lived in that neighborhood, I was more than 
ever determined to see the youngster, — prob- 
ably, I thought, a woodpecker baby. 



THE LOST BABY 131 

When he appeared outside, therefore, I pounced 
upon him, and took him up in my hands. He 
was not a gentle captive. He struggled and tried 
to bite me. and as my hands closed over him, he 
uttered a wail more despairing than any before. 

On the instant, as if in reply, there came a 
shriek from the darkening woods that would 
have startled me greatly if I had not at once 
recognized that it was the agonized cry of the 
mother of the infant I held, for of course it 
was a young bird I found in my hands. 

Unfortunately for the student, bird babies look 
a good deal alike, so, as the easiest way to name 
my prize, I glanced up at the distressed mother. 
She had come into plain sight, forgetting her own 
danger in her anxiety and terror, and no doubt 
thinking it was now all over with her precious 
offspring. 

I looked for a woodpecker, but I saw a cuckoo, 
and knew I was looking, for the first time, on a 
full-grown young cuckoo. 

I did not study him closely, for between his 
own struggles and his mother's painful cries, I 
could not bear to hold him long. In a minute I 
opened my hands, and away he went, half flying, 
half hopping up the road after his mother. She 
had instantly, upon his release, slipped back 
among the trees out of sight, and resumed the 



132 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

tapping sound, which I then found was a modifi- 
cation of the " Kuk ! Kuk ! Kuk ! " of the fam- 
ily. It was her talk to her little one. 

It was the first time I had seen a young cuckoo 
just out of the nest, but the very young nestling 
is the oddest baby I ever saw. It is about as big 
as the end of my thumb, black as ink, and stuck 
all over with tiny white quills that look like pins 
on a black cushion. It does not look as if it 
could ever grow to be as big as its mother. 

You have heard or read, perhaps, that the 
cuckoo does not make a nest, but puts her eggs 
into the nests of other birds, leaving them to 
hatch and rear her youngsters. This is true of 
the cuckoo of Europe, but remember always that 
our cuckoos make nests and bring up their own 
young, and are just as tender and careful of 
them as any bird I know. 

It is true that a few cases have been reported 
of eggs found in other birds' nests, but so far as 
I have heard, these cases were not positively 
proved. Moreover, even if true, it happens so 
seldom that it does not affect the general rule. 



HOW THE CROW BABY WAS PUNISHED 

I once watched the doings in a crow nursery. 
The babies were out of the nest, and came with 
their mothers to a pasture away from most of the 
houses, and quite near the woods where their 
home had been. 

There was, to be sure, a low cottage next to 
the fence, which the birds did not seem to notice. 
It was a farmhouse, with doors and windows 
nearly all on the other side, so that the people 
were not often seen next the pasture, and there 
were no children to run about and be noisy. 

I was staying in that farmhouse to study the 
birds, and one of my windows looked into the 
pasture. I was very careful never to let the birds 
see me at the window, and so I had a fine chance 
to see how a crow mamma brings up her family. 

The biff-little ones were about the size of the 
grown-ups, but they had funny little dumpy 
tails, and were clumsy in getting about. Their 
cry sounded just like a human baby cry, " Ma-a-a ! 
Ma-a-a ! " It was very droll, and I watched 
them with great interest. 



134 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

The most important thing the elders had to do 
was to teach the youngsters how to fly, and every 
little while one or both of the parents would fly 
round the pasture, giving a peculiar call as they 
went. This call appeared to be an order to the 
little folk to follow, for all would start up and 
circle round for a minute or two, and then drop 
back to the fence or the ground to rest. 

Once, while I was watching them, this cry was 
given, and all flew as usual except one bob- 
tailed baby, who stood on a big stone in the 
middle of the field. He was perhaps so com- 
fortable he did not want to go, or it may be he 
was afraid and thought mamma would not notice 
him. 

But mothers' eyes are sharp, and she did see 
him. She knew, too, that baby crows must learn 
to fly, so when they all came down again she 
flew right at the naughty bird, and knocked 
him off his perch. He squawked, and fluttered 
his wings to keep from falling, but the blow 
came so suddenly that he had not time to save 
himself, and he fell flat on the ground. 

In a minute he clambered back upon his stone, 
and I watched him closely. The next time the 
call came to fly he did not linger, but went with 
the rest, and so long as I could watch him he 
never disobeyed again. 



A JAY'S TABLE MANNERS 

The Canada jay is a bird who lives in the 
northern part of the United States, in the soli- 
tary woods or near them, and is closely related 
to our jolly blue jay. He seems to be as full of 
fun and antics as his cousin in blue, and many 
stories, some true and some untrue, are told 
about him. 

Wood-cutters and hunters who camp out in 
these mountains and woods call him "camp 
bird " and other such names, because he is fond 
of coming about a camp and making himself free 
with their property. He carries off their meat, 
and helps himself to anything he wants. 

The campers forget that they have intruded 
into his home, where he feels that everything 
belongs to him. Some men are fair-minded 
enough to see this, even some of the Indians 
who live up there near the birds. One of them 
told a lady who traveled in that part of the 
country that the woods belonged to the bird. 
It was his home, and men had no right there; in 
fact, they were intruders. When men appeared 



136 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

on his ground, and the bird came to see what 
they were about, they called him impertinent, 
while the truth was, the men were the imperti- 
nent ones. 

The Indian name for this bird is something 
like " Wiscachon," and he has come to be called 
by white men " Whiskey John " and " Whiskey 
Jack." 

He is a beautiful bird in soft gray plumage, 
and one of the most intelligent of the family. 
All the jays are interesting, and know more, it 
is thought, than any other birds. Travelers 
generally tell the troublesome and funny things 
they do, but Dr. Merriam, who has known birds 
all his life, has told a little story that shows 
him in a new light, in pleasant relations with his 
fellows. 

The doctor says that it was his habit when 
camping out to give the birds what was left of his 
meals, and among the rest of the fragments were 
often a few pancakes, a favorite dish in the woods. 

The way the cakes were served to the jays 
was by thrusting a sharp stick through one and 
pinning it to the ground, so that it could not be 
carried off. Then the jays, who are not much 
afraid of men, would come around to get the 
dainty, which they like as well as some other 
little folk do. 



A JAY'S TABLE MANNERS 137 

Although there might be a half-dozen birds, 
all anxious for the cake, they never once quar- 
reled over it. One would go up and pull off a 
piece, then another would follow, and so on, each 
one taking his turn and waiting for his brother 
to pull off his bit before he went up himself. 

Were not those pretty good table manners for 
a bird brought up in the woods ? 



FEIENDLY WILD EOBINS 

When wild birds find that the people about 
them are always kind and never trouble them, 
they often get very tame. I have known of 
several cases of robins so tame that they did not 
at all fear the family near whom they lived. 

I have told in another book about a pair of 
robins who nested in one yard for fourteen years. 
If they were not the same pair all the time, they 
were descendants of one pair, for they came 
every spring to the same old places, just as tame 
and fearless as they had been when they left 
them in the fall — fearless of the family, I mean. 
They were as shy of strangers as any robins, but 
any one of the family could look at a nest or pick 
up a young robin without frightening the birds. 

One day there arose a great hue and cry on 
the lawn, and some one from the house went out 
to see what was the matter. All the robins of 
the neighborhood were flying about, scolding 
and crying at the top of their voices and cir- 
cling round the head of a man who was walking 
quickly away. 



FRIENDLY WILD ROBINS 139 

It seems he had picked up a young robin 
just out of the nest, and the parents had called 
in their neighbors to help rescue it. The lady, 
who saw what was the trouble, went to the man 
and claimed the youngster as a " tame bird." 
The man gave it to her, and in an instant the 
cries ceased. Not only the parents knew the 
little one was safe in her hands, but all the other 
birds seemed to understand it also. She carried 
the baby bird back to the lawn and put him in 
a safe place, while the elders looked on perfectly 
satisfied. 

I know of another young robin picked up 
from the ground when he was just out of the 
nest, to save him from cats. He was not caged, 
but allowed to go all over the house, and out of 
doors. 

When his kind mistress thought he was old 
enough to take care of himself and keep out of 
the way of cats, she tried to give him his liberty. 
Again and again she carried him out of doors 
away from the house and left him, but he 
would not be left. He would stand on a branch 
and shriek and call like a lost child, till she came 
back. Then he would fly to her shoulder, rub 
his head against her cheek, and give sweet little 
notes, showing his love for her, and his delight 
at getting back to her. 



140 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

Another lady, who nursed a little robin that 
was hurt, had the same experience. The bird 
was so happy with her that he would not leave 
her. She told me she had sometimes set him on 
her hat and walked about the streets and into 
shops with her live-bird ornament, and he never 
thought of leaving her. 

She often took her pet into a grove and let 
him fly about wherever he chose. He liked it 
very much, but the minute she started up to leave 
him, he flew to her. He would not be left. 

I could tell you other stories to show that 
when birds are well treated and made happy 
with people, they get much attached to them, 
and often prefer to stay with them. But they 
must be well fed, kindly treated, allowed a good 
deal of liberty, and above all — never teased. 

A lady told me a funny story about a robin. 
He was brought up in the house from the nest, 
and never learned to sing the robin song, for he 
had not heard it. He plainly tried to make some 
sort of music, and one of the family taught him 
to whistle " Yankee Doodle." He whistled it 
perfectly, and never tried to sing anything 
else. 

Once this Yankee Doodle robin got out of the 
house and flew up into a tree. When the wild 
birds came about him he entertained them by 



FRIENDLY WILD ROBINS 141 

whistling his favorite air, which sent the birds 
off in a panic. 

Robins have been known to imitate words. 
One that I know of lived in the house with a 
parrot who talked, and learned from hhn to say 
" Aunt Maria " as plainly as the parrot himself. 



THE DROLL MOCKINGBIRD 

The more I see of the mockingbird, the more 
sure I am that he plays many of his pranks for 
pure fun. 

When he lives in a cage and learns to mock 
the sounds he hears about him, such as the post- 
man's whistle, the call to the dog, or the chick- 
en's cry of distress, he delights to give these 
sounds by way of a joke, — for instance, the cry 
of a chicken in the night, when it will send some 
kind-hearted person out to the coop to see what 
is the matter, or the postman's whistle, to make 
some one run for letters. 

A mockingbird that I once knew lived in a 
cage next door to a network partition which 
separated him from a large family of canaries. 
When first placed there, the bird seemed to be 
struck dumb by his neighbors' singing, while the 
truth was, he was simply studying his lesson. 
For days he remained silent, taking notes, learn- 
ing their song ; then suddenly, without any re- 
hearsal so far as known, he burst out into the 
canary song, in a loud, ringing tone that struck 
every little yellow throat dumb for a time. 



THE DROLL MOCKINGBIRD 143 

After this it was his pleasure to keep silent 
till half the birds in the room were shrieking at 
the top of their voices, and then all at once to 
break into the concert with their own trills and 
quavers, so loudly given as to shut them all up 
in an instant. Then he stood and jerked his 
wings, and flirted his tail, and hopped gracefully 
back and forth in his big cage, evidently enjoy- 
ing the consternation he had produced. 

A curious thing I once saw was a free mock- 
ingbird regarding the antics of a kitten at play 
on the grass. The bird took his position on a 
tree almost directly above pussy, leaned far over, 
jerked his tail, and uttered a peculiar sound like 
the " Fuff "of an excited cat. This is, in fact, 
the bird's war-cry, and for the little fellow to 
declare war upon the enemy of his race, when 
even in its infancy it was so much larger than 
himself, was very droll. His manner showed that 
he appreciated it, and enjoyed it as a joke. 

On one occasion, when I was engaged in study- 
ing this bird in North Carolina, there happened 
to be something outside the fence that attracted 
the turkey buzzards, so numerous in that State. 
Many of them abandoned their usual occupation 
of soaring about in the air, and came one after 
another to earth, in plain sight. 

Having never seen these birds much, I was 



144 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

greatly interested in their movements, their grace- 
fully decreasing circles, and as they neared the 
ground, their hanging legs, and their evident 
hesitation to alight. I had seen several come to 
the spot, and was wondering what could be there 
to attract them, when a mockingbird noticed the 
unusual gathering, flew down the yard, and 
perched upon the fence near where they were 
busily engaged in the road. 

A few moments he stood looking at them in- 
tently, then suddenly, with a loud war-cry, 
dropped down among them. I was frightened, 
for they were big enough to eat him, but what 
was my amazement to see the buzzards rising in 
a panic, twenty of them. The mockingbird 
knew them better than I, and undoubtedly he 
did it as a joke, for the next minute he hopped 
gayly upon the fence, and began his loudest 
song, wriggling his body, and flirting his wings 
in a gleeful manner. At another time the joker 
became interested in the movements of a brood 
of chickens that with much noise and chatting 
accompanied their mamma about the yard. No 
doubt he planned another joke, for he quietly 
dropped from his perch into the midst of them. 

A hen is a different bird from a buzzard, how- 
ever, and the joke was not a success. The mother 
turned sharply upon the intruder, and he dis- 



THE DROLL MOCKINGBIRD 145 

creetly left her and her family in peace. No 
triumphant song and no posturing on the fence 
followed this failure. 

I have seen a mockingbird play a friendly trick 
upon another by suddenly hopping over his head 
and coming down on the other side, just avoiding 
touching him, but so barely missing that the 
victim always sprang to one side, or ducked his 
head. 

I noticed, too, that the second bird watched 
his chance, and before long paid the joker in 
his own coin by jumping over his head when he 
did not expect it. 

But life is not all fun even to a mockingbird. 
Here is a little story of one who was in trouble. 
The person who wrote me about it had found a 
young mockingbird in a nest in a low thorn- 
bush. It was about ready to fly, and thinking 
he would secure it for his young sister, he went 
to the house for a cage. " All the time we were 
at the nest," he says, " the mother bird was 
giving her cry of distress, and continually dart- 
ing down at us, as though to fight. As soon as 
we started back with the cage, she set up her 
cry, and when we were less than twenty yards 
from the nest, she flew down and pushed the 
young one out. As it fell, it made an effort to 
fly, and was carried ten or fifteen feet from the 



146 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

bush. We rushed up to get it, when the old 
one flew down to the ground, and with either 
her claws or her bill carried it up to a height of 
ten or twelve feet, then let it go, and flew, the 
young one making an effort to follow her. This 
it did, till it gave out and fell, when the mother 
came down and lifted it again ; and so she did, 
as we followed her up, for three or four times, 
till we were ashamed of ourselves and left them. 
I am satisfied/' he concludes, " from her cries 
and action, that it was the mother's supreme 
effort to remove her young from danger." 

The mockingbird is a great enemy of the cat, 
of course. All birds recognize the cat as an 
enemy that would like to eat them. Mocking- 
birds are known to drive cats off the premises, 
as I have told you swallows will do also. 

Did you ever hear a mockingbird sing ? and 
notice what funny words it seems to say ? Those 
of you who live in the South of course have heard 
him often. The first time I ever heard one, I 
wrote down the words his song sounded like. 

Here are some of them. 

" Su-ky ! su-ky ! su-ky ! come he-e-e-re ! come 
he-e-e-re ! malory ! malory ! malory ! pe-de-de-de ! 
quit ! quit ! qu ! qu ! qu ! chick-a-pa-tee ! chick-a- 
pa-tee ! chick-a-pa-tee ! pr-r-r-r ! cup-o-tea ! cup-o- 
tea ! cup-o-tea ! pic-o-lo ! pic-o-lo ! pic-o-lo ! M So 



THE DROLL MOCKINGBIRD 147 

he would go on an hour at a time, in a loud, 
clear voice, jerking his tail, lifting his wings, 
and turning his head to one side and the other, 
with bright black eyes fixed on me as if to see 
how I liked it. 

I liked it very much indeed, and kept still and 
listened as long as he would sing. 



A SOCIABLE BABY DOVE 

Never were there more lovely and winning 
bird babies than young mourning doves. A 
dove's nest is a frail sort of platform that very 
soon drops to pieces, and the nestlings have to 
hold on to the branches for themselves. This 
would not do at all for restless babies — they 
would fall to the ground very soon ; but young 
doves are quiet little fellows, with manners as 
composed as their mamma's. There are always 
two of them, and they sit side by side close to- 
gether, saying nothing. 

Some people think that mourning doves never 
say anything. They are very quiet, but they 
are not dumb. They utter soft, sweet notes, so 
very low that one has to be near them to hear 
at all. 

The dove's nest is rarely very high, and in 
one place where I studied I often came upon 
them. There they would sit perfectly still and 
look at me calmly, as if they knew I would not 
touch them. 

Sometimes the mother was there, just having 



A SOCIABLE BABY DOVE 149 

fed thein, perhaps. She, too, sat perfectly still, 
in just the position in which I had caught her. 
If her head happened to be turned to one side, 
she would hold it there as if she were suddenly 
frozen stiff, and no matter how long I stayed, 
she would not move. 

Besides their silence there is another queer 
thing about doves. When they fly they make 
a whistling sound that has been supposed by the 
wise men to be made in some way by the air 
among the wing feathers, and the dove song of 
"Coo-o!" with slight variations, was thought 
to be all he could sing. 

All these strange things made the dove very 
interesting, and so one day when I came upon 
a young dove sitting on the lowest branch of a 
tree, I thought I would see if he could talk. I 
stopped six or eight feet from him, and began a 
low whistling call. 

The bird instantly answered me, in a low but 
clear tone, and as long as I stood there and 
called, he answered. It seemed to make him 
uneasy, however, for he flew from one branch 
to another, though he did not go away. 

The next day I found him there again, and 
again I began talking to him. He answered 
every time, with a sweet note, and sometimes he 
fluttered his wings a little, but it made him 



150 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

restless again, and suddenly he flew directly to- 
ward me. It looked as if he were going to 
alight on my head, but he passed over a few 
inches above it, and alighted on a tree, 

I turned and went on calling, when he flew 
to the ground almost at my feet, still answering 
me. Finally he flew back to the tree I found 
him on, and there I left him. 

The sounds the dove baby made were so much 
like the whistling supposed to be made by wings 
that I thought I would find out more about it. 
So I went to a tree where doves spent a good 
deal of time, and hid myself under it. There I 
heard many notes, some of them like those made 
by the baby in answer to me, and some like 
their louder "Coo-o! " only very low. In fact, 
several days' study under the doves' tree taught 
me that they are as talkative as any birds, only 
they speak hardly above a whisper; and that 
they can make the whistling sound without fly- 
ing, and can fly without making it at all. So 
there is still more to be found out about doves. 



THE DUCKLINGS WHO WOULD NOT 
GIVE UP 

Perhaps you have heard the story of Bruce 
and the spider, how the tiny creature taught the 
man a lesson in patience and never giving up if 
he wanted to succeed in anything. Well, spiders 
are not the only creatures who, 

If at first they don't succeed, 
Try, try again. 

A droll sight was that of a party of ducklings 
who evidently had that for their motto. They 
were not long out of the shell, and they started 
out one morning to have a swim. Unfortunately 
they chose the sea for their swimming-place, and 
set out bravely to wade in. 

It happened to be when the tide was coming 
in, very quietly, with hardly a ripple. Every 
few moments a little wave not more than an 
inch or two high swept gently up on the beach, 
and then drew back into the ocean, after the 
manner of waves. 

Now ducks, however young, are very dignified, 
and slowly and solemnly the little family party 



152 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

waddled down toward the water. They were in 
no hurry. The sun was warm and pleasant ; 
they had eaten their breakfast; they had the 
day before them. 

Just as they reached the edge of the water, 
the tiny wavelet ran in, lifted the pretty yellow 
babies off their feet, swept them all far up on 
the beach, then turned, leaving them high and 
dry on the sand, and ran out to sea again. 

The ducklings, not at all discouraged by this 
shabby joke of the wavelet, gathered themselves 
together and started again down the beach as 
bravely as before. Again the saucy wavelet 
came up to meet them, and again they were all 
set down far up on the beach. 

One would think they might be discouraged. 
Far from it ! They wanted to go into the water, 
and into the water they would go. A third 
time they set out for their swim, as earnest, as 
calm, as hopeful as at first. Of course they met 
the same fate as twice before, but of course they 
did not give it up. 

Whether they ever really did get into the sea 
is not known. Eight or ten times, in fact as 
long as the observer had time and patience to 
watch them, the same game went on ; each wave- 
let carried them all far up on the beach, and 
they all waddled back, with the single purpose 
of going into the sea for a swim. 



THE DUCKLINGS 153 

Another of the duck tribe that I once saw 
lived with his mate in the yard with some hens, 
and did not approve of the loud cackling the 
hens make over every egg. 

There was a little pond in the yard for the 
use of the ducks, and this knowing drake soon 
found out that the hens did not like to go into 
the water as ducks do. So whenever a hen 
came cackling out of the hen house, he would 
rush after her, seize her by the back of the 
neck, and drag her, squawking, fighting, and 
beating her wings, to the pond, where he would 
give her a good sousing, and then let her go. 

The hens soon learned to expect it, and when 
one began to tell the world that there was a 
fresh egg in the box, she would go shrieking 
around the yard as fast as legs and wings could 
carry her, while the drake, with fury in his eye, 
scrambled after her. 



BIRDS AND DOLLS 

One day, when I had my Bird Room, I was 
dressing a doll for a young friend, and I laid it 
on my desk while I made the clothes. 

Now on my desk I kept a small china box full 
of dried currants soaked soft, which the birds 
were very fond of. When a bird wanted one 
to eat, he would fly up on the desk and ask 
for one by looking at the box and then at me. 

The first bird who came for a currant that 
morning was a thrush. The instant he saw the 
doll he was struck with panic, and flew madly, 
as if he feared the doll would eat him. 

I laughed at him, for I thought he was simply 
a coward, but I soon found that every bird in 
the room was afraid of it. Some of them flew 
quietly but quickly away, while others scolded 
and squawked, and made a great noise over it. 
When I held the doll up so that all the birds in 
the room could see it, they made as much row 
as if the poor little doll were a big cat, used to 
eating birds. 

I thought that was droll, but I found after- 



BIRDS AND DOLLS 155 

wards that wild birds do not like dolls any bet- 
ter than captives. Once when I was watching 
the birds in a big yard full of trees, a little girl 
set her doll up on the ground, leaning against a 
tree, forgot it, and left it there. 

The first birds who noticed it were a pair of 
blue jays who had a nest in the same yard. They 
came to the next tree and looked at it and 
talked softly together. Then they swooped down 
at it as if to see if they could scare it away, and 
finally they squawked at the poor doll and flew 
away. 

Then two robins came to see what sort of a 
thing was there. They were evidently a good 
deal scared, but kept their courage up by shout- 
ing " He ! he ! he ! " as they came near. One of 
them was determined to get near enough to see, 
and he came slowly nearer and nearer till about 
a foot from the doll, when he suddenly sprang 
up as if it had started for him, and both of them 
gave loud shrieks and flew away in a panic. 

The next visitor to the bugaboo was a red- 
headed woodpecker. The minute he saw it he 
burst into a loud woodpecker chitter like 
" T-t-t-t-t ! " growing louder and louder, and 
higher and higher, till it was almost a shriek, all 
the time with eyes fixed on the doll. 

This strange performance excited all the birds 



156 TRUE BIRD STORIES FROM MY NOTE-BOOKS 

around, and many of them came to see what 
was the matter. When the woodpecker had said 
all he wanted to, he suddenly stopped, and the 
birds flew away as if the show were over. Not 
a bird dared to go very near the tree so long as 
it stayed there. 

But the doll did not seem to mind it a bit. 



ElectrotyPed and printed by H. O. Houghton &* Co. 
Cambridge t Mass., U.S. A. 



IS 1903 










LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 





00017337560 




